Wounded
by Dylan Cruca
Summary: After the Season 2 Finale, Jane and Kurt are reunited, but separated by pain, distrust, guilt and feelings of abandonment. Concentrates on the relationship between the two characters more than mysteries presented to them in the finale.
1. Chapter 1: Scratching

**A/N-this is the angstier story I'm working on. I hope working on multiple Blindspot stories at once isn't too confusing, but as I said, I need to balance fluff and angst, for some reason. It picks up at the close of Season 2, and deals with what I would assume would be Kurt's pain, frustration and sense of abandonment after she left, and Jane's guilt and pain over leaving (and other things), more than the mysteries they need to solve and Jane's newfound bioluminescence, LOL.**

 **Parts of this story will feature very angry, hurt, and frank conversation and interactions, and this may not work for some readers, but for those who choose to read, I confess, I'm ultimately a sucker for love.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Scratching**

 _Jane stepped slowly through the unfamiliar trees, her shoes popping as she yanked them from the thick mud with each step. Mist rose from the ground as rain that had fallen earlier in the day evaporated under the renewed heat of the sun. As much as she knew she didn't belong in this oddly sacred space, she had a mission, a purpose, even if she wasn't exactly sure what that was yet. Nearby she heard something, the sound of an object roughly scraping over wood, and knew that sound was calling her attention._

 _She was unarmed, but that didn't worry her, lost but not afraid, and driven by the need to find the source of the scratching sound that beckoned. "You don't belong here," a tiny, sweet voice mentioned behind her. Jane turned and the girl regarded her without malice or curiosity, as if she'd expected the intruder._

 _The girl gazed up with pretty green eyes and repeated, "You don't belong here."_

" _Yea…I know," Jane answered, sitting on the trunk of a felled tree so she'd be at eye level with the girl. She looked at the child and smiled at the odd yet undeserved nostalgia she felt when she looked at the little mud encrusted rain boots. "Those are really cool shoes," Jane complimented._

 _The girl gazed down at them, staring for a few moments as the toes of her shoes lifted alternatingly from the ground. The scratching sound returned suddenly, and Jane remembered that she had to follow it. She looked back toward the girl to tell her she had to leave, but the child was standing closer, and extended her tiny fingers out toward Jane. "Come on," she insisted with youthful innocence._

 _The child was quick, dashing through the woods without a second thought, knowing exactly where they were going. Jane felt, somehow, like she was struggling to keep up with the wispy girl ahead of her. Suddenly the girl paused, leaning forward and peering through a heavy curtain of brush and leaves. Jane stooped to follow the girl's line of sight, and saw a man, long and lanky, carving something into the wood of a feeble structure in the clearing. As Jane watched, she realized he must have been there for a while. A few empty food wrappers and cans sat nearby. His clothes were sagging off him, still wet from the rain that must have stopped hours ago._

" _It's my fault he's trapped here," the girl confessed guiltily._

 _Jane shook her head, "I'm sure it's not."_

" _It is. He comes here all of the time. He waits for me. Even when he can't be here waiting for me, he's here in his mind."_

" _Taylor," Jane whispered, for the first time acknowledging the child's identity although she'd known all along, holding the girl's hands in hers, "it's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong."_

" _I didn't mean to hurt him. But I did."_

" _I know you didn't mean to hurt him, sweetie. It's not your fault. I know that. And so does he."_

" _But he's stuck here because of me…because he's looking for me."_

" _You can't think like that," Jane reassured. "He knows you never wanted to hurt him."_

 _The child jerked her hands away suspiciously and stepped back, like Jane suddenly frightened her. "But **you** did," the child coldly stated. _

" _No," Jane shook her head, "I never wanted to hurt him. I love him…more than he knows."_

" _But he knows I didn't want to leave him. But you did. You chose to. You wanted to go. That's probably why it hurts so bad this time," the child calmly explained, sounding more adult than she looked. "Now he's stuck because of you."_

" _It's not like that," Jane argued._

" _Do you ever wonder what he's doing? If he's okay since you left?"_

 _Jane felt the tears pouring down her face and replied, "I think about him every second of every day."_

" _He doesn't know that," the child responded. "He blames himself, you know."_

" _It wasn't his fault," Jane defended._

" _I know. But he thinks it's his fault. All of it. He thinks it's his fault that I died. And his fault that you left."_

" _None of it was," Jane whispered mournfully._

 _Jane's eyes flickered toward the man and when she looked back down, the child was gone, lonely empty rain boots left in her place. She heard him scratching, fervently digging into the post with a knife, so she approached. "Kurt?" she whispered._

 _His head snapped around, but he kept working. "What?" he asked without pretense._

" _What are you working on?" she asked._

 _His face surprised her once she was close. He was younger than the man she knew, probably sixteen or seventeen. He was so unbelievably lanky, but obviously fit and already quite tall, a fact that seemed exaggerated by his lankiness. He was sweating profusely as he worked, his clothes hanging heavily off him from the earlier rain. He paused for a moment, wiping away the sweat with the back of his arm before he continued working. She saw his knuckles, bloodied and bruised from punching something recently, and there were older scars and scabs on his fists from things he'd hit before. She tried to look at what he was carving, but he turned, leaning his back against it to hide it from her. "It's a message, okay," he explained. "But it's not for you."_

 _Although he scowled, his eyes full of rage and fury, sadness and loss, behind all of those scalding emotions, there was an innocence she had never seen. The innocence of youth sat tucked away deep behind his eyes, and for a second, when she looked at him, she thought there was a flicker of recognition. "Kurt," she said, reaching out a hand, but he backed quickly out of reach._

" _Go away," he ordered, turning and continuing his work on the post._

 _She reached out again, feeling her hand shaking nervously as she touched his shoulder, and he flinched and pulled away like her fingers burned his flesh. She was desperate to hold him, just to hug him and tell him things would get better. She wanted him to know he wasn't alone, that someone loved him deeply, but he wouldn't let her near. "I'm so sorry if I hurt you," she offered.  
_

" _ **If**_ _you hurt me?" he growled. He shook his head, frustrated and nearing a complete breakdown. "Just go away. Leave me alone."_

Jane shot up in bed as she did so many times since she'd left. Kurt haunted her dreams almost nightly. So did Taylor, the child she'd seen in pictures coming to life in her mind. She had no idea when she woke that in a few short hours, he'd be standing in front of her.

* * *

Jane easily agreed to come back to help their missing friends, there was no other choice. She couldn't believe Kurt was here, standing in front of her. She wasn't sure how he'd found her, but she knew he was probably the only one in the world who could have. After a few moments of awe over her previously unseen tattoos and the shock of his presence, he asked, procedurally, "How soon can you leave?"

"It won't take me long to get ready. A couple of hours."

"Forecast calls for storms tonight," he said, "sounds pretty bad. Wait for them to clear, then head out in the morning?"

"Yea," she said, glancing over him and realizing for the first time that even when he looked at her, he wasn't staring her in the eyes. He'd always done that, and it was strange not to feel that unyielding connection.

The playfulness had left his eyes, too. One of the things that had surprised her most once they were in a relationship was just how fun he could be. Behind the formality, Kurt Weller could be a hell of a lot of fun. It had shocked her how much they laughed, how often he teased her, chased her around, acted silly and full of life at home. She had enjoyed every single moment she spent learning about this side of the man she'd already loved.

He was a bit thinner now, somber, not as controlled and angry, but more uncertain and sad. Some things had changed, but some things were so familiar, and she missed them so much it made her ache. The moment she'd hugged him, his arms felt the same. He still smelled like sweat, detergent and his deodorant, the same one he'd worn every single day since she'd met him, and there was something about the way he smelled, something that reminded her of love and sex and sleepy mornings happily wasted in bed. He'd melted into her arms for a moment, but she felt the purposeful way he took her waist and ended the hug, lifting her back a few steps to give himself space. That wasn't like him.

She was swept up in memories of them, happy, warm, comforting memories, and then was startled when he cleared his throat, "Well, I guess I should—"

"Sit down," she offered, remembering herself, shuffling things out of the way to make room for him. "Want some tea?" she asked, searching in vain for another cup, but holding out hers to him in the hopes that they could talk.

"No, thanks," he answered, picking up the box labeled with her name and shoving it back in the bag.

He turned to leave, no other words or explanation, and she grabbed his wrist roughly with both hands, hanging on as if she were falling. "Wait, please," she asked, pulling him back inside.

"What is it, Jane?" he calmly asked, not even looking at her face anymore, much less her eyes.

"Stay here. I missed you so much. It's so good to see you again."

"You'll be seeing a lot of me," he answered quietly, "we'll be stuck together a few weeks until we get this all sorted out."

"Whatever brought us together…I'm happy it did," she said, offering a hesitant smile. He didn't answer, his face frustratingly inscrutable to her. She'd thought she could read him so well. "Aren't you?"

"I'm not happy that people are missing," he answered abruptly.

"No. I didn't mean that," she replied nervously.

"I need to go," he said, extracting his wrist from her hands. "If you decide not to run out on me overnight, I'll see you in the morning."

"Kurt, wait," she pleaded, turning him back toward her and trying to hug him. "I'm so sorry. Of course I will be here tomorrow."

"Jane, stop," he said, pulling her arms down from his shoulders and stepping backwards to increase the gap between them. "I need you to stop touching me."

"But—"

"The FBI will pay you for your assistance. We'll hire you on as a consultant," he interrupted. Digging through a pocket in his bag, he produced a thick stack of papers. "This is what we're offering you in terms of compensation. If the terms are acceptable—"

"Compensation?" she scoffed. "I don't want compensation. I'm doing this for them. And for you."

He insistently held the papers out, refusing to continue until she'd taken them.

"Thank you," she capitulated, taking the papers and tossing them on the table nearby. "Stay here tonight. You can sleep next to me. I know we can fit on that cot." She chuckled as she added, "Remember that night in Havana? When we stayed in that—"

"No thanks," he interrupted again, wincing at the loss of a pleasant memory that now caused him obvious pain. "I know you didn't choose to come back to me. I found you. You don't have to pretend that—"

"I'm not pretending, Kurt. I missed you so much. I _never_ wanted to hurt you."

"Well," he said, calmly, looking up above, "if that's true…you failed. Miserably. This is a professional arrangement. No need for personal entanglements when people's lives are on the line."

She nodded although her expression was one of disbelief, "If we're only here because you found me…because the team is missing, and that's the only reason…then why are you still wearing your ring?"

He stepped closer, finally staring her down, and said through a quivering voice, "Because _my_ vows…meant something. Every word I spoke and promise I made when we got married…was real. I never wanted to get married until I met you. So yea, I'm still wearing my ring. Because _I_ am still married to you _._ Although I'm pretty sure _you_ aren't married to _me_ anymore."

When she saw the way he couldn't fight his tears, it broke her heart, seeing the pain that he couldn't suppress, she understood how difficult the preceding months had been. "I am still married to you."

"I've been faithful to you, Jane. Every lonely night. I leave the bar alone. I leave work alone. There has been no one else. Since the first night we made love, I have never been with another woman. I haven't even wanted another woman."

"I have been faithful to you," she argued. "I promise, there is, and has been, no one else."

"How am I supposed to believe anything you say," he asked. "You promised to be with me to death, and you lied. I'm not sure I even know what the truth is anymore."

"I didn't want to hurt you."

"Yea, you said that already. But I'm fucking hurt anyway," he said, his voice raising. "That's all I am anymore. Just hurt. It seems like I've spent my whole life chasing people who will always be out of my reach." She tried to speak but he shook his head. "When I say something, I mean it. I'll be here in the morning when the rain clears."

She stood there as he disappeared, dropping down to the floor in tears as her body shook with sorrow. She wasn't sure how to make him understand, and she could barely stand the guilt of wounding him so badly.

* * *

 _She'd slept fitfully, unable to get comfortable, wondering if she should go out and find him, especially once she heard the storms rolling in as the wind howled. When the door to her tent peeled back, she heard someone enter. She knew it was him immediately, his smell and the feeling of his presence filling her heart. "Come here," she whispered, moving on the tiny cot to make space for him._

 _As he stood over her, she felt his damp clothes and raised up on her knees, quickly undressing him as he shivered. She patted the cot and he lay down, and she lowered her body on his, trying to warm him. It warmed her, too, the feeling of his large form beneath hers. She'd missed him so much, too much. He relaxed gradually, one of his arms finally encircling her and holding her tight against him. His fingers dipped below her tee shirt and almost as soon as he became that brave, she pulled her shirt off and curled back up against his body._

 _She'd meant for this to be innocent, but she wanted him so badly she wasn't even sure how to explain it. She missed their connection, the familiarity of him, the feeling she had in his presence of being truly, thoroughly loved. Nuzzling her nose against his neck, she felt her heart flip-flutter at the closeness. "I love you so much," she whispered, her lips touching his neck as she spoke. When he didn't argue with her, she added, "I know it may be hard to believe, but I missed you."_

 _He still didn't argue, but his hand began moving in long strokes, his fingers barely skimming over her skin from her shoulders, down her back, and just to the swell of her ass. She was touching his chest, her fingers over his heart, nose and lips casually finding skin at his neck and jaw and shoulder. She felt his cock stirring underneath her thigh, in some ways relieved that he was still attracted to her, and affirmed that maybe she hadn't broken him as much as she'd feared. Then he shifted away so she wouldn't feel his arousal._

" _Don't pull away," she assured, allowing her hand to encourage his reaction.  
_

 _She hadn't kissed his lips, hoping the spell wouldn't be broken and that maybe she could heal some of his broken heart by making love to him. She slipped out of her pants and straddled him, and without any real foreplay or urging, she guided him into her body and slowly began to ride him, desperate to hear him moan some sort of approval, but he was silent. He hadn't said a single word or made the faintest sound. "You feel so good," she gasped, feeling her body grow close to what she could feel would be an explosive orgasm. Just before the wave washed over her, a horrible crash shook her to her core._

* * *

Thunder roared loudly as thick drops of rain, or maybe hail, crashed down on her tent, waking her from her dream. She began to tear up again when she realized he hadn't come to her in the night, seeking shelter, comfort and warmth in her arms. She could almost feel his body beneath her, inside her, and the lack of him left her hollow and cold. She wasn't sure he would ever understand why she'd left, and if he did, she wasn't sure if he'd ever forgive her.

She wondered where he was and if he was safe, and in her mind, she heard that scratching, so much like she'd heard in her dreams when she'd imagined him younger, carving a secret message. The scratching in her brain was almost physically audible, and she knew she had to go. She stood, grabbing a thick cloak she'd gotten from the monks and flinging it over her shoulders, and went out into the night to find him.

First, Jane went to the temple. Often times visitors sought shelter there in poor weather or bad times, and monks were always ready to help those in need. There were a few huddled bodies in the temple waiting out the storm, although none were Kurt. She checked other tents and searched around, the hail hurting her head and skin even through the hooded cloak. She wasn't sure how she saw him…he was too far away, the night too dark, trees too dense and the storm too rough to really see that far, but she knew he was there. She hurried toward the cliff at the edge of the mountain and saw a solitary canvas tarp draped between two trees.

One of the monks, Jane's closest confidant there, hurried over with a few thick blankets. "You need to find him again," the monk ordered in her native tongue.

"I did. He's right there," Jane replied, pointing in his direction. She took the blankets, implicitly offering to deliver them.

"He _is_ there," the monk answered calmly. "But it is not enough to locate him. You need to _find_ him."

"I understand," Jane said, tucking the items she was given under her arm and running through the trees toward him.


	2. Chapter 2: Out of the Storm

**A/N-In case it wasn't clear in the last chapter (and in all chapters in this story), sections in italics are all memories/flashbacks/dreams, etc.  
**

 **I want to thank everyone for their thoughts, and for so much support. I really love this fandom and pair, and this is REALLY, REALLY fun. Thanks, hope you enjoy.**

 **Also, I am nearly done with a chapter of "Still the Only" as well as the next chapter of this story, and hope to post again within the next few days. I'll try to keep updates somewhat frequent on both, but you all know how life can be sometimes.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Out of the Storm  
**

Jane felt an odd sense of worlds colliding when she saw Kurt's temporary tent near the top of her mountain. At first it made her feel unsettled, but then, slowly, she began to enjoy the feeling of the two together, as if such a thing could actually be the natural order. She wondered what it would have been like to climb her mountain one day and find him sitting at the top, waiting.

The late night walk would have been much nicer had hail not been pelting down on her, and if she hadn't been so deeply worried about Kurt. She peered around the side of the shelter and saw him lying on his back, his head propped up on a backpack, glass bottle in his hand. His legs jutted out slightly from the shelter, and chunks of hail were clinging to his pants. He was lit only by a small portable lamp on the ground next to him. "Hey," he welcomed quietly, glancing only momentarily in her direction.

"Hey," she answered, leaning in a little further. "Can I come in?"

"If you can handle the luxury."

She smiled sweetly and said, "You don't look very comfortable at all."

"I dunno. I've had worse nights."

"I'm sure. But my tent is warmer than this. It's dryer than this. There aren't ice chunks falling from the ceiling. It has more comfortable bedding and blankets."

"Five star stuff," he added, taking another sip from a nearly empty bottle of bourbon.

"Yea," she chuckled, sitting closer, just within arm's reach if she were to stretch out toward him. "The thing is, everything about my tent is nicer than your current…umm…accommodations. So the only reason I can think of why you'd want to stay here…is because I'm there. Is that about right?"

He sighed and she awaited an answer for nearly an eternity, but finally he sat up a bit and said, "I don't understand what I'm supposed to do. Sleep next to you? Hold you like nothing happened? Kiss you like you didn't run off a few days after we got married? Make love once or twice for old time's sake? Or maybe a quick make-up fuck to follow up the fight that I don't even remember having before you left… I don't know how to act or what to do. I don't even know what to think."

"I just want to be near you. I can't explain how good it felt to see you again…just to be next to you. I didn't know you were coming, so I didn't have a plan… this is all really strange for me, too. All I know for certain is that I don't want to let you go. And if being next to you means that we might kiss or make love or just hold each other…I would like that."

"I can't have a casual fling with my wife, the woman I love! You were never, ever, a casual _anything_ to me."

Taking the bottle from his hand and slugging a drink, her head swam almost immediately and she said, "Wow…I haven't had a drink for a while." She chuckled and noticed that he wasn't glaring, just staring quietly into the stormy sky. When he didn't respond, she considered his last words and she asked, "Does that mean that, maybe, you're still in love with me?"

"That's the most ridiculous question I've ever been asked," he answered.

"No it isn't. You can barely look at me. I know you value loyalty and fidelity and vows…the duty of marriage…but what about the rest of it? Are there other reasons why you wear your ring, or is it just because of the promises you made?"

"Of course I'm in love with you, Jane. I don't even know how you could question that. I can't just turn off my feelings for you. If I could, maybe it wouldn't hurt so bad. But I can't. How did you turn it off?"

"I _didn't_ ," she adamantly countered. "I have never stopped loving you for a second. I love you with all my heart. None of that has changed."

"Well, it's been really hard to tell that from my end."

"I wish you could understand."

"So make me understand," he practically pleaded. "Explain it to me. I was, what…too boring? Too unrefined? Worked too much? Too inattentive? Expected too much? I wanted too much sex? Not enough sex? I don't understand what happened. We were so happy. We were happier than I thought I could ever be. I thought things were good. I thought things were _so_ good I wasn't even a little worried that something might go wrong. I was completely blindsided. I guess what I had to offer just wasn't enough."

"That's not true. There was nothing wrong with you. You didn't do anything wrong. We were really happy. You were perfect."

"Obviously I wasn't if you went searching for fulfillment somewhere else. You went all this way to get away from me…I chased you all this way to find you again. What happened that made you vow to spend a lifetime with me one day…and a few days later made you disappear without a word?"

"I left a note."

"That could have fit on a postage stamp," he argued. "After all we went through, I didn't even deserve a conversation? You couldn't have told me to my face? Talked to me? Tried to work things out? There isn't a place in this world I wouldn't have followed you to if you'd asked me…not a thing I wouldn't have done to help you. If you needed time alone, I would have given it to you. I would have done anything to make you happy, and have you in my life, or at least…to know that some day you'd be back. You just had to talk to me. I thought that was part of being in a relationship."

"It's so hard to explain. I'm not even sure if I understand."

"Well, one minute we were happy, and the next you were gone. Something changed. The only thing I can think of is the conversation we had the night before you left. I know I made you uncomfortable and—"

"It wasn't about that either."

"Maybe I pushed too hard…pushed you away. But all you had to do was tell me you weren't ready. All I wanted was you, the rest was just extra."

"It had nothing to do with you, Kurt. I need you to know that!" she yelled, speaking more loudly than she had in longer than she could remember. "I was remembering things. Lots of things. Remi…she's still part of me, inside me. She didn't just vanish. And she did things that…"

"I told you a thousand times I didn't care about anything she…you…did before. How could I have made that any clearer? It doesn't matter to me."

"But _I_ care about what I did. Who I was. I didn't deserve a life like that, with a husband or a family, after everything I've done. I can't guarantee I won't one day wake up and realize I've become Shepherd…horrible and manipulative. She thought she was doing the right thing…she felt justified. What if I became a mother, and that's how I raised our child? I was raised by her…she molded me. Everything they did, I helped to orchestrate, to plan. I am just as responsible. And what if Roman comes back and hurts you or someone else I love? I'm a magnet, Kurt. A lightning rod for horrible things, and everyone around me, everyone I love, is always in danger. Look at Reade, Zapata and Patterson…god knows who took them, and I'm probably the reason."

She paused once she realized she was actually screaming out over the mountain, fat streaks of tears down her face, her voice shaking from anger and fear and confusion. She felt Kurt watching her, more unabashedly than he had been. He slid closer across the floor, just putting an arm barely around her shoulder. It wasn't the full wrap-up in his arms that she wanted, but it felt so good to feel a little of the comfort only he could offer. And he offered it willingly. She turned closer, hoping he wouldn't pull away when she leaned her head against his shoulder.

His arm dropped from her shoulder once she stopped crying, but he rested his hand on the ground behind her, so he didn't move away entirely. He seemed shocked at her sudden outburst, but at least a little relieved that she'd opened up. "Why couldn't you just tell me that, Jane? Why couldn't we have tried to talk about it? Couldn't we have tried to figure everything out together? We were a team, in every way. Was I that hard to talk to?"

"No. You weren't hard to talk to at all," she laughed sadly, "I—I guess I didn't really even understand it all myself. I'm still trying to figure it all out. I—I just knew I had to go. I hope you know I never wanted to hurt you. Not ever. I am _so_ sorry that I hurt you."

The tarp above them ripped, piles of hail and pooled rain water falling mostly on Kurt as he quickly up-righted himself and brushed off the hail that collected on every fold in his clothing. He picked up his things from the puddles, shaking excess water from each one. The lightening flashed brightly and lit their surroundings.

"Please," she said as the winds picked up, "come back and stay in my tent. I'm not asking for anything else from you. Just come out of the storm."

She was certain he was going to say no, that he was going to tough out a night cold and freezing, stubbornly refusing any comfort, but she saw the way his brow softened when he saw the pained look on her face and he nodded. "Okay," he replied, his volume drowned out by the storm, as she read his lips. She knew he was accepting more for her benefit than his own, that his desire to protect and soothe her still had a powerful hold on him. It was all the proof of his true feelings that she needed.

Jane scooped up his lantern and bottle as he grabbed the rest of his things and they ran back to her tent. The fresh blankets that the monk had given her were soaked already, so Jane found a few she had and pulled them out. She patted her cot and asked, "Do you want to sleep up here? You can have the cot. Or we could share, if you want."

He looked at her hand on the cot for a few seconds, as he seemed to thoroughly consider the offer, and then shook his head, "I'll be fine down here."

"Alright," she said, trying to cover the ache in her heart that she felt at his rejection. At least he'd agreed to sleep in her tent, and that was more than she'd expected.

"Thanks though," Weller replied.

"I'm trying," she said as they lay in the dark. "I'm trying to figure things out…I want to fix all of this. I don't want to lose you."

"I know you're trying," he finally answered. "I am, too."

She rolled on her side and propped herself up, looking down over his long silhouette on the floor nearby. "Why does it bother you when I touch you?"

He sighed loudly, rubbing one broad hand over his face, "Because it feels so good. Normal," he finally admitted. "And it hurts because it isn't normal anymore. If I let you back in, and you…"

His words fell silent but his meaning was clear. Jane was the one who wanted so much more at that moment. She wanted him to tell her everything, every single thing he was thinking and wondering about, she wanted to know how to ease his aching heart, and knew in that moment that she would have done absolutely anything for him. She wanted the obvious distance between them to disappear so she could climb behind his walls and _really_ be there with him, like they had been. She didn't want Kurt to feel pain at her touch, she wanted him to be comforted by it. She wanted him next to her, to feel the rumble in his chest when he laughed and held her. She wanted him to place an almost unnoticeable kiss on her shoulder when she slept like he had so often. She wanted him to look at her, to lock eyes, to make her feel the way he'd made her feel a thousand times just by staring at her.

She despised the thin invisible line that separated who they used to be from who they were in their present moment. The man she'd once touched without apology, kissed without reason, held without shame, seemed to be so forbidden. Her terrified words echoed in her mind _What if I become Shepherd._ _I'm a lightning rod for pain and everyone close to me is in danger._ _I'm just as responsible._ She'd traveled so far to try to find answers, only to begin to really unravel the puzzle when he found her again. Perhaps this was something else that needed both of them to work.

He began to snore, softly, more of a gravelly breath, and she closed her eyes and imagined that sound closer to her. How many nights had he slept with his face against her neck, or her head on his chest? Jane sat up, her feet swinging off the cot as she looked in his direction. She nearly crawled across the floor to him, to just lie behind him, almost touching. Then her mind wondered if he'd see that as an invasion. When she thought of the nearness she craved and the hurt that its absence caused, she began to really understand why her touch was so painful for him. As much as she wanted to be near him, she wanted him to _want_ her there, to be ready to invite her into his embrace.

She reached behind her to her meager personal belongings and found her ring. Sliding it over her finger, she remembered the day he'd put it on as they'd exchanged vows. Resting back down on the cot, her mind, as it often did, returned to simpler, happier days.

* * *

 _Jane got dressed after her shower, stealing a shirt from Kurt's closet since he wasn't there to offer her one. The morning after their first night together, everything was still a little surreal, the fact that they loved each other, the fact that they'd had sex, fucking amazing sex, and he'd whispered "stay" to her every time she even thought she should offer to leave. She heard a knock at the door and hoped it was the food he'd mentioned ordering and not someone from work. As she stepped out of the hall and into the kitchen, she saw him tipping the deliverer before he carried a few bags to the counter. He couldn't seem to stop grinning every time he looked at her, and the morning was no exception. "Damn. Can't believe I forgot," he said as he looked through the bags._

" _Forget to order something?" Jane asked as she casually strolled across the floor._

" _No. I forgot to lock my closet so you couldn't find anything to wear," he grinned again, that wolfish, flirty grin that melted her almost every time._

" _What's this?" she asked, discovering groceries instead of the prepared food she usually had delivered to her place._

" _It's called food. This is what it looks like before the restaurant cuts it up, cooks it, and delivers it to you in the form of take-out."_

" _F-ooo-d?" she playfully pretended that the word was foreign. "It's easier when it comes prepared and the only thing you need to do is supply the fork, chew and swallow. And while you're so busy cooking and being a smartass… you didn't realize that all the time you spend making the food could be spent doing other things. Much, much, much funner things."_

" _What sorts of other things?" he asked, acting completely clueless and innocent as he slapped a cutting board on the counter, grabbed a knife and started cutting. "You mean tennis? Maybe reading a good book? There's always_ _Uno Attack_ _…I know you love that."_

 _She stood next to him, her back against the counter as she faced him. "That's not quite what I was thinking."_

" _I tried to get enough food to last a little while…not just one meal. I was hoping, maybe, you'd stay here with me. And we wouldn't have to go anywhere, for a day or two," he explained._

" _So plenty of time for Uno Attack?"_

" _Exactly!" he agreed as he openly chuckled at the suggestion._

" _I could stay, if you're inviting."_

" _I'm inviting."_

" _I'll just have to find something to do while you're busy playing chef," she seductively murmured, her fingers moving to the top button of the shirt she was wearing as she started plucking open each one._

" _If you want me to…uhh…play along in the next round, I'm going to have to replenish vital nutrients at some point."_

" _I'm not stopping you," she answered as she let the shirt fall open, but remain hanging on her shoulders._

" _I'm highly trained to withstand years of torture and manipulation, you know," he bragged. "I think I can handle your—"_

 _He stopped with confusion as she slipped under his arms, coming up between him and the counter, facing him with his arms on either side of her as he chopped. She felt him groan, somewhere deep inside his chest, and she whispered, "Does this really feel like torture?"_

 _He shook his head, still chopping, but much more slowly behind her back as he leaned down and kissed her, his tongue reminding her of the many talents he had that she had spent a few of the previous hours learning about. He stopped kissing her as abruptly as he'd started, looked over her shoulder, and continued chopping. She smacked his chest with the heel of her hand, and said, her voice raspy and suggestive, "Really? You'd rather chop stuff than umm…_ play _with me?'_

" _No," he shook his head, one hand sliding under his shirt that she wore. His hand moved to her ass, pulling her closer while he wedged his knee between her thighs and braced it against the cabinet below the island. The firm pressure of his leg between hers made her moan expectantly, and she tightened her arms and pulled her body up against his, her toes already off the floor. His other hand was still loosely grasping the handle of the knife behind her back, trying to make some pretense that he wasn't distracted by her seduction._

 _After just a minute or two, her tiny form pinned against the island and in his arms made him forget the challenge to concentrate rather than be distracted by her. He dropped the knife on the counter and allowed his other hand to find her skin, sliding up her back._

" _I thought you were hungry?" she asked, her own moan confessing her state of mind._

" _Starving," he replied roughly, his hand moving up her neck, grabbing a handful of hair and tipping her head so his mouth had full access to her shoulder, neck and jawline._

 _She liked when he became so turned on that he forgot to treat her delicately, and he moved her to a different spot on the counter, recklessly throwing the knife on the floor behind him so there was no chance she'd accidentally be cut by it. He pushed her back on the counter, her legs winding around his body as his mouth slid over the tight expanse of her form. He stopped to kiss each breast, teasing each nipple, kissing each hip and the flat of her stomach before he pulled her legs around his neck and buried his face between her thighs. Her fingers clenched down on the edge of the counter, holding on through the erotic onslaught of his attention. His one free hand moved to her forearm, his long fingers holding onto her as if he feared she may slip away across the countertop._

* * *

Jane woke, as she did too often, just short of any sort of satisfaction, even in her dreams. She wondered if they'd ever get back there again, to love without caution, passion without hindrance. It had all felt so simple. So natural. So easy.

She could still hear the words he'd spoken that morning in his kitchen so long ago, " _I think we should make '_ ** _brunch'_** _a regular thing, don't you?_ " with that suggestive glance and the naughty chuckle that followed.

Lying on her cot, alone, she groaned, her hands balling into fists by her side as she remembered her reality. "Bad dream?" his voice came through, from the floor instead of beside her, but at least in the same room.

"No, I…" she began looking at the back of her forearm, to the spot where she remembered him holding on so tightly, so possessively, two years ago on his kitchen counter. She could almost feel his hand still covering that spot. "Oh god," she said as she stared at the place where his hand belonged, and the image triggered a memory.

"You alright? What is it?" he sat up, immediately moving toward her and ready to protect her even after everything that had happened.

"One of the new symbols, here, on my arm…right here," she pointed to the spot. "I know what it's for."

"What?"

"Atonement," she gravely replied.


	3. Chapter 3: Here

**A/N-I was going to post my other story, but my mood was better suited to writing this one. Thanks so much, as always, for your support.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Here**

Jane didn't waste time once she realized what one of the new symbols meant. She got up and started scrambling.

"Relax, Jane," Kurt reassuringly said. "This isn't something we can fix overnight, and if we want to get to the end, we have pace ourselves. Get some rest."

"I can't," she shook her head. Any feeling of peace she had cultivated while she was gone had almost completely abandoned her.

Kurt stood, trying to avoid her path as she hurriedly gathered her things to leave. "Hey," he said, authoritatively, taking her hands in his to steady her. He looked at her, using the same calming voice and presence that had brought her comfort so many times before. "Stop," he assured, "just for a minute."

Her heart was in turmoil, feelings of guilt, panic and sorrow building within. She explained, "It's all because of me. If this is about payback, about making me pay for everything that I've done—"

"You don't know that."

"I think I do. This symbol…it was tattooed on the arm of a man who I killed. I'm positive. I remember."

"Maybe you had a good reason for killing him. Your instincts are always to do what's right and just—"

"I don't know. I don't remember. I think he had a family. Children. I killed their father and—"

"Just because he had kids doesn't mean anything. My father had kids and he sure as hell didn't deserve to live."

"No, Kurt…this was Remi, under Shepherd. Even the things Roman remembered about me…I was a very bad person who—"

"Just wait. You don't know what happened. You don't know why. Let's get the facts, about what really went down, before you start speculating."

"But what if it's unforgivable? What if you can't accept it? If it's something that changes how—"

"There's nothing. Nothing I can't accept."

"What if I can't? What if I can't live knowing what I've done?"

"You had a horrible childhood. No matter what your name was at the time, you were abused in some of the worst ways…ways that make me angrier than I'm really able to deal with. That messes up a person, makes them able to do things other people couldn't do. But deep down, I believe _you_ have always been in here," he said as he firmly placed his hand over her heart. "Even if your methods weren't the best, I believe somewhere inside you, the Jane I know, has always been there. I believe this is how you were born…this is who you would have been if terrible things wouldn't have happened to you. When they wiped your memory, you had the chance to really become who you were inside…the person you were born to be."

"I think you're biased," she said, forcing a laugh.

"I am completely biased. But I'm also right."

"And if you're wrong? If I killed a good man, a good father?"

"Then we figure out how we can make it right. Okay? We make restitution the best way we can."

"We? This isn't your problem to fix."

"We're in this together," he said, sternly. "Good times and bad. I'm here. Besides…my motives aren't completely altruistic."

"I know you feel obligated—"

"That's not it. We need to figure out what happened to the team," he said, hesitating in a way that made it clear there was more to say but he wasn't sure if he wanted to say it. Then, after deciding to continue, he added, "If you're carrying this guilt around…maybe if we make things right, you'll be ready to come home. To me. Maybe you could finally let yourself be happy…at least we could try. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to bring you home."

He held her hands in his, so tightly that it made her fingers tingle. She looked down at their intertwined hands and he suddenly loosened his grip. She felt him lean a little closer, and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her, that maybe even though everything else was wrong, things between them could be alright. She saw the sympathy, the love in his eyes that made it clear that she had a great deal of power over him.

He turned away just enough to break the spell, before they came too close, but he didn't let go of her hands. He cleared his throat and said, "We do this together. Okay? Don't push me away when _this…is_ where _I_ want to be."

She softened, hearing echoes of the past and, with a voice choking slightly, said, "I'm so lucky."

He waved his hand, disregarding any notion that she was the lucky one, and said, "We find Reade, Zapata and Patterson. We help you find a way to deal with the past. We have a plan."

"Yea," she said, forcing a smile even though she wanted to cry.

"Come here," he demanded, folding her into his arms with the tight grip she needed.

She closed her eyes, falling into him, and the word that kept echoing in her mind was ' _home'_ as she allowed the feeling of his arms to become her world, her safe haven, even if just for a moment.

Her fingers dug into his shirt, holding on with the grip she'd strengthened after hours and hours of climbing. Then he said the perfect thing. He didn't promise her it would be alright, ask her stop crying or try to make her forget why she was falling apart. The only words of comfort he whispered were, "I'm here."

Even though he was hurt, he was there for her. She'd missed this, his strength, his carefully chosen words, his calm presence in the tensest of situations. She wondered how she'd gone without him, and how long it would be until she really had him back.

* * *

Weller kept his arms around her until she seemed to feel better, and then hesitantly they parted and decided to begin the trip home. The storms had past, and the sun was peeking up in the distance, bright yellows and oranges backlighting the trees. He waited patiently while she went to say goodbye and offer thanks to those who had looked out for her when she'd needed them. He kept his distance, giving her space to say or do whatever she needed to do before leaving.

He heard a noise behind him that drew his attention, and in the next minute, two figures rushed at him from the shadows. He shouted, "Jane," to warn her, seeing out of the corner of his eye that she was simultaneously under attack. He disarmed the first attacker, hitting him over the head hard enough to render him unconscious, and just as Kurt turned to fend off the next attacker, he heard a pair of clapping gunshots. Taking the gun he'd removed from the first attacker, he shot the man behind him and watched him drop quickly to the ground.

Hurrying over to Jane, he realized she'd already taken care of both of her attackers, but not before one of the monks was wounded. Jane was hunched over the woman, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. Other monks surrounded the injured woman, all trying to help, all speaking in a language that Weller couldn't understand. He could tell that Jane was apologizing, begging forgiveness. One of the monks approached Jane, speaking so quickly it was a wonder Jane was able to follow along. Kurt waited somewhat impatiently until Jane turned, translating, "She said we have to go… since the attackers were trying to stop us, we must have important work…" Jane stopped and argued with the woman for a moment.

"Is she going to be okay?" Kurt asked, looking toward the injured woman.

"They said they can take care of her," Jane answered.

A few of the faithful ran and gathered things, pushing Jane and Weller toward the mountain, urging them to go.

"We need to leave," she encouraged, practically shoving him so they could flee.

"What about them?"

"They're all going into hiding to stay safe. Those people were looking for me. Everyone is safer if we leave."

She was running ahead and he noticed he was having trouble keeping up, although he couldn't figure out why his body wasn't responding the way it normally would. He hadn't slept long the night before, but felt more tired than he should have. He saw Jane turn back to look for him, and then saw her eyes go wide before she turned in his direction. "Keep going," he barked, but she returned for him anyway.

"Oh my god," she fretted, her hands shaking as she stooped in front of him and tried to see how badly he was wounded. "Why didn't you tell me you were hit?"

He looked down, seeing blood soaking the lower part of his shirt and creeping down his thigh. He felt his heart start to pick up and realized that wouldn't help him. He wasn't sure if adrenaline had momentarily numbed his pain or if, perhaps, he was in shock. "We need to get as far away from there as we can," he argued.

"Come on. I have an idea," she offered, guiding his arm over her shoulder to help him move faster.

"I'm fine," he insisted, but she didn't back away, firmly holding his hand in place to help support him.

He guessed she knew where she was going because she was focused on a point in the distance. There were a few tiny structures built into the side of one of the mountains, almost invisible until they were close. He leaned back against one wall as soon as they arrived, and pulled up the side of his shirt and heard Jane gasp, "God, Kurt."

"Just a scratch," he tried to assure, but as he looked again, he could see a few rhythmic spurts of blood that indicated that an artery was probably nicked.

He could see the panic in her face, even though her training guided her actions. "We have to stop the bleeding," she said, wide-eyed.

"Can you find some water? Please?" he asked.

"Yea," she answered, dashing out and hurrying down to a mountain spring.

* * *

Jane hurried as quickly as she could, feeling incredible panic and guilt that she tried to snuff out in favor of doing what she had to do to make sure her husband would be okay. As clean as the spring appeared, she knew it would be best to boil the water, so she was already considering how to best build a fire fast enough. Then she remembered that he probably had a stash of clean water and wondered why he'd sent her away.

When she got back to Kurt, he had already taken action. He had cauterized the wound using a rigged flameless lighter that he'd brought with his supplies, his belt still pinched between his teeth to help him deal with the pain. She hurried to him, dropping down next to him and surveying the damage. "You didn't have to do that yourself."

He smiled at her, offering as much reassurance as he could muster, and said, "Already done."

She watched while he poured whiskey over his skin around the wound to disinfect it, and she knew the harsh alcohol probably burned wickedly. His breathing slowly calmed as the stinging ceased, sweat beading into droplets all across his skin.

She kissed the top of his head, unconcerned with whether or not he wanted her to, and she felt him lean toward her a bit instead of pulling away. His head rested on her shoulder for minute, and he seemed to sense the turmoil in her. "It wasn't your fault," he murmured.

"We don't have to talk about this right now."

"Yes. We do," he said, sitting up to look her in the eye. "You bring a lot of great things to the people in your life. You're not a magnet for pain… This is _not_ your fault. Most of the times I've been shot were before I even met you."

"Comforting," she said, chuckling sadly. "But you know as well as I do that this wouldn't have happened if you wouldn't have come after me."

"Stop," he said, adamantly. "You are not responsible for the bad things that other people do, the atrocities they commit. Even you aren't tough enough to be responsible for every mistake made by the people whose paths you cross."

She didn't answer, feeling the swirling guilt and worry that had made her want to run, and he said, "Listen to me, Jane. Promise me you won't go. Promise you won't leave. I want to work through this, but I need you to promise not to do that again." She hesitated for just a moment and he added, "I need you to promise…because I can't go through that again."

"I promise," she said, nodding.

"If we get through this and you don't want to be with me, I'll give you a divorce or whatever it is you want—"

"I don't want a divorce," she interrupted immediately.

"Good. We're safer together. We're better together. Or…at least I'm better with you. If anything, this is proof…the world still needs you to get out there and save it. And I want to help."

After gathering water, wood and supplies, Jane moved rocks to the doorway of one of the little abandoned structures to create a barrier tall enough to keep wildlife out for the night. She'd begged him to rest for a few hours and hoped he'd be well enough to travel again in the morning. She found it hard to sleep as she kept checking on him to be sure he was alright. Whenever she managed to sleep, she dreamed.

She had found a certain peace, a very literal calm quiet in recent days, but she'd also endured the pain of a separation that was even lonelier than her first few days as "Jane," when she didn't understand what was happening. The loneliness she'd felt since she'd left was more thorough, deeper, because she understood what it felt like _not_ to be alone. She'd learned what it felt like to be loved, to know that a person would be there every night and still be there in the morning. Perhaps peace was overrated. For a second she wondered what she'd do if Kurt died, if infection set in or if he'd lost too much blood, and the thought of a world without him in it brought tears to her eyes.

She pushed the notion out of her mind, feeling that even to think of the possibility was too dangerous. At least while they'd been separated, she took comfort in the fact that they inhabited the same planet. Her dreams reinforced her fears, making images of such devastating loss so clear in her mind. She remembered the way he'd lied about Roman's escape, and she wondered if it was the only time he'd ever lied on a report.

She dreamed that she was responsible for corrupting him, of being evil herself and slowly twisting him into something evil as well. As infuriating as his strict code of ethics could be at times, it was part of what she loved so deeply about him. In one dream he told her that he didn't love her, that he was one of Shepherd's pawns and he was only manipulating her, and she felt the pain of her soul being slowly demolished.

"It's okay," she heard him mumble as she woke from her dreams, his voice tinged with pain as he moved closer to her. "I'm here," he reassured, one arm carefully winding around her.

It was hard to see in the dark, the light reflected by the moon was blocked by clouds, and all she could do was feel him next to her. It didn't seem to matter where they were, whether in their apartment or on the other side of the world sleeping on a dirt and stone floor, he felt the same. He always used to hold her in the night after they'd started seeing each other, and her worst nightmares would end in the comfort and security of his arms.

"Dreams?" he asked.

"Yea. Sorry I woke you," she answered. He just tightened his arm, and she thought he felt warm. "Are you okay?" she asked. "Are you in a lot of pain?"

"The worst is over," he confidently said, although she knew he was downplaying the pain for her benefit.

"Where are we going to go?"

"I have a contact, about half a day away. We get there, and then we get the next flight out. Since you already found the first lead in your new, uhh, tattoos, or whatever…we follow that lead. Sound like a good plan?"

"Maybe add in a quick stop at the hospital. At least get you an antibiotic and something for the pain."

He tightened his arm even further, his breath hitching a little when it pulled at the wound in his opposite side, but refusing to loosen his hold on her. "You're here, next to me. And I wasn't sure if you'd ever be here again. I feel better than I've felt in a while."

She smiled into the darkness, wondering if he could sense it, allowing her body to relax carefully against his. The plan sounded simple, a half-day journey to safety, but she knew it wouldn't be easy. As much as he wanted to convince her that he felt fine, climbing down the mountain could be just as challenging as climbing up it.


	4. Chapter 4: Paradise

**Chapter 4: Paradise  
**

Jane's survival instincts kicked into high gear as she felt something heavy over her, someone's hand covering her mouth and another hand rubbing something on her face. Just as she was about to let the assailant know that he had messed with the wrong woman, she heard Kurt whisper right against her ear, "It's me, baby. Don't move. Not a sound."

She froze, knowing that he must have been reacting to some threat he'd heard or seen. Of course, in spite of his injuries, he was over her, shielding her from whatever was near. She started to wonder if maybe his injuries and blood loss were messing with his mind. Then she heard the sounds of footsteps crunching through the stone and dirt outside. She held completely still, noting through closed eyes that it appeared that lights were flashing above them. Voices could be heard outside, but she couldn't tell what they were saying.

It felt like they were there forever, waiting, hoping she wouldn't hear gunfire or feel the piercing of a bullet. As much as she'd craved Kurt's closeness, she certainly didn't want him to serve as a human shield. Eventually everything went silent. The lights stopped flashing and footsteps and voices faded into the distance. They remained still for several minutes, making certain that everyone had left.

Kurt rolled away from her, groaning loudly even though he tried to hide it. If there were lookouts who'd remained behind to wait for them, they certainly would have heard him. He was clutching his side as Jane leapt up to look around. First, she checked to be certain no one was waiting nearby. As soon as she saw they were alone, she hurried next to him. "Are you alright?"

"Yea," he said, using his arms to pull himself into a sitting position.

"Lie still. Let me help you," she urged, hoping he'd listen.

She looked around, realizing that he'd thrown his blanket over them. It was dark green, an old army blanket that he'd kept in his pack, and the back was covered in gravel and dirt from the ground, which fortunately helped them to blend in to the floor. As she wiped her face, she realized he'd rubbed dirt over her skin to camouflage her if someone would have looked more closely.

"We need to get out of here and figure out what's going on," she said.

"Yea, but even if I was moving at top speed, we don't stand a chance climbing down that mountain. There's no cover. They'll see us immediately. They probably have someone watching it, and we'd be open targets out there."

"There's another way down…if we continue this way, we'll make it to the bottom. It won't be easy—"

"It's harder than the other way?" he chuckled.

"It's more dangerous. Overgrown. Untamed. There's at least one river to cross. There's wildlife, snakes…different kinds of dangers. But probably easier for you to get down, and more cover. Can you reach your contact?"

"Probably should avoid using the satphone until we're closer. It could be used to pinpoint our location. Plus I need to save battery. When we're near, I'll fire it up."

"Are you going to make it that far?" she asked, softly.

"I'm gonna be fine," he insisted, taking her hand in his. He felt something and looked down at her finger. "Ring's back on?"

"I didn't take it off for any symbolic reason. It's hard to wear it when I climb. I caught it once on a rock and thought I was going to rip my finger off."

He spun it around her finger beneath his fingertips a few times, enjoying the simplicity of a moment shared silently holding her hand. "Will you let me try to bandage that?" she asked, pointing at his side. "At least as best as I can."

She took a clean a tee shirt from her bag, and knelt by his side, taking his small lamp and directing the beam at his wound. She breathed one loud breath in through her teeth when she looked at his injury. The bullet had pierced his side, just above his hip. She used their water to rinse the dried blood away, and he hesitated when she gestured for him to lift so she could take off his pants. "Do you have another pair?"

"My bag," he mumbled, carefully edging out of his pants but keeping on his boxers.

She put clean boxers and pants next to him and tried to joke, "Since when are you shy?"

He sighed, reluctantly removing his shorts before he grabbed the water from her and rinsed away the blood that had dried down to his hip and thigh, and then quickly replaced his boxers. That effort alone hurt more than he'd anticipated. She pushed back, using her often surprising strength to force him flat back on the ground. "Will you let me help you?" she griped.

"I've got it."

"You're so damn stubborn," she admonished, but the tone of her voice was as tender as it had always been. "Now lie back, put your hands over your head and let me help…" When he didn't obey immediately she said, "Are you going to make me do this at gunpoint?"

He actually chuckled, grasping his side, and when he looked back at her, her eyes gleamed at him. "Fine," he agreed, "but you owe me."

"Okay, tough guy," she replied, leading his arms over his shoulders until he tucked his hands beneath his head.

Somewhat optimistically, he appreciated his pain because it distracted him from the omnipresent attraction he had for his wife, and the way her fingers rested on his abdomen. Her kindness almost hurt since he knew how much he'd missed it, missed the way her touch was once an everyday thing. She ripped her spare tee shirt down into strips and tore up one of his long sleeved shirts to tie a bandage around him, covering the wound completely and offering it some protection. She found electrical tape in his pack and used that to affix the bandage more securely. Her gorgeous green eyes stared at his body while her lips twisted with concern. "I hope that bullet didn't nick anything important," she commented aloud even though it looked like she'd intended for that thought to be silent.

"If it did, I'd probably be dead already," he replied just as calmly.

* * *

By morning, Kurt was shivering even though the air wasn't chilly. Jane worried about fever or shock. If they were going to keep moving, he would probably do much better if he had something to help with the pain. He had one small bottle of whiskey left in his pack, but the risk of dehydration would increase if he drank alcohol and it wouldn't help him with his coordination, so she didn't feel comfortable using that for pain. "I have to go back," she said as she looked out of the stone structure they'd hidden in, checking the sky for signs of bad weather.

He slowly turned his head toward her, like he wasn't sure if he had heard correctly. After a long pause, he said, "You're kidding? Right?"

"It's not that far."

He sat up and tried to stand, but she rushed next to him and put a hand on his shoulder to stop him from moving, he groaned, "Why? Just a few hours ago they were here, searching for us. Whatever it is that they want, they're determined to find us. It's not safe. Nothing's worth the trip."

"You are," she calmly replied. "I can get you something to help with the pain—"

"I can handle it," he gruffly interrupted.

"But your stubbornness and determination won't fight infection."

"Well, my stubbornness has been working out a lot, getting buff…you'd be surprised what it can handle," he weakly joked.

"We aren't that far from the temple. I know where the medical supplies are."

"Okay, let's go," he said, moving again so he could stand.

"It's faster if I go alone."

He scowled up at her, "But it's not safer. You'll have no backup. No extra set of eyes."

"I can get in and out without ever being seen. You know I can do it."

"It's not safe."

"Neither is risking infection," she stated, authoritatively. "I'm going. I'll run. I think I can get there and back in an hour…maybe two if the place is guarded. Please stay here. Rest."

She put water next to him, and went through his bag, grabbing an extra clip for his gun and putting it within his reach, too, just in case their enemies swept the area again in daylight.

"If you weren't coming back, would you even tell me?" he asked, staring blankly ahead.

"You think I'd leave you here?" she asked, pained.

"I think you might send someone else back to get me."

"I won't do that."

He sighed, obviously accepting the circumstance, no matter how much he didn't like it, because he knew he couldn't keep up with her even if he wanted to, and trying to drag an injured man back to the temple would probably put her at greater risk. "Bye, Jane."

She placed her hand on his. "I will be back. I promise. Just give me a few hours. I won't leave you out here."

He looked up at her, his eyes showing his disbelief, but he replied, "Okay."

She climbed over the stones that partially blocked the doorway and met his eyes one more time. "See you soon," she assured.

"I love you," he replied softly.

She smiled, "I love you, too. That's why I'll be right back."

* * *

After she'd left, he closed his eyes, keeping his ears focused on any noises that might indicate encroachers while his mind wandered back to a happier time.

 _Three days after their wedding, Jane and Kurt were hidden in a quiet cabin far from anyone or anything they knew. All they really wanted was to be alone and out of touch for a few days. It was complete heaven there, the two of them, away from phones, missions, computers and gunfire. The possibility of boredom never crossed their minds, one day blending into the next._

 _That night, before bed, she put a bottle of water and her birth control pills next to her so they'd be conveniently ready in the morning. He reached across her body and took the cartridge that held her pills and spun it around a few times between his fingers. "You know…It's fine with me if you get rid of these."_

" _What?" she nervously responded, grabbing the cartridge and putting it back where it belonged._

 _He rolled on his side and lifted onto his elbow, "I'm not rushing you or anything. I'm just saying I'm ready whenever you are."_

" _You want to talk about this now?" she asked, a bit tersely._

" _No. Relax. I'm just telling you I'm open to the possibility…but I'll wait until you're ready."_

" _Well, I'm not ready," she answered immediately._

" _Okay. I didn't mean to upset you."_

" _I'm not upset," she countered, her voice betraying her._

" _I shouldn't have brought it up so soon after the wedding," he said, pulling her closer to him. "I just need_ you _. The rest…we can figure out as we go. As long as I have you…"_

 _She smiled at him, at the gentleness he seemed to reserve just for her. She touched his face, kissing him sweetly a few times before she felt him pull her legs around him. He nuzzled against her ear and felt her back arch as she giggled while he tickled her. She wiggled next to him, knowing how irresistible his body seemed to find it when she did, and she teased, "Still, we could practice…just in case."_

 _He lifted his head, wondering if there was some way that he had left her unfulfilled. "Practice?" he questioned._

" _Yea," she replied, locking her legs behind his back, "in case one day I feel ready."_

" _Ohh," he nodded. Slipping his hand between them, he slid a finger against her sex and whispered, "I'm all about preparedness."_

 _She moaned, her head lulling against him, "Ready at a moment's notice."_

" _I do my best."_

 _She grabbed him and squeezed, pumping her hand along his shaft a few times, "That's another one of the things I love about you," she whispered. "Always ready at a moment's notice…but never finished in just a moment."_

 _He chuckled,_ " _I love it when you brag about me. You should have added that to our wedding vows."_

 _She started to prepare some smart retort, but he raised up on his knees, easily dragging her body in front of his as if she were practically weightless. He pulled her close, lifting her legs so her ankles hooked behind his neck before he thrust deep inside her and closed his eyes to soak in everything about her._

 _He could still see the perfection of her face and form from the second before he closed his eyes. The sound of her moan in his ears, the tight clenching grip of her sex on his. She was his paradise. Not just during sex, but always. That was what he had wanted to tell her in his vows, but decided not to say. It was too sappy, too dramatic, and he worried she would have thought he'd been exaggerating. But it wasn't an exaggeration._

 _He'd never believed in soul mates or true love or any of those ridiculous concepts, but he knew when he married her, he'd married pure bliss. Nothing made him as happy or fulfilled as she did. He trusted her, loved her, in a way that he'd never trusted or loved anyone else._

 _When they'd collapsed into bed that night, limbs limp, bodies contented and hearts full, he thought he had it all. He wasn't sure if he'd actually said it aloud, or if she'd heard it if he had said it, "I don't know how I got this lucky, to have you."_

 _He was still snoring when her alarm went off in the morning. As she did every morning at six, she unwound herself from his arms, rolled to a table beside the bed and took her pill. Most days, she'd curl back up next to him for a few minutes before she had to start her day. While she looked down over his sleeping form, she decided she loved him too much to hurt him._

* * *

Kurt waited for her to return from her run to the temple for medical supplies. He was certain she'd been gone for days, but when he looked down at his watch, he realized it had only been a couple of hours. He heard steps in the distance, a thud that sounded like hers, although he couldn't be certain. He gripped his gun, aiming and bracing his aiming hand with the other for accuracy. He wasn't sure who he'd see once someone came into sight.

Perhaps he'd see a monk, or someone Jane sent to help him. Maybe he'd see one of their enemies, and he'd have to take a shot. As much as he hoped to see her face, he didn't want to imagine it. So many nights he'd imagined coming home to find her sitting on the sofa, or sleeping in their bed, and those images had been met with disappointment time and time again.

The steps slowed, approaching more cautiously, and then he saw her peer inside, gun in her hands, as she looked to be certain he hadn't been apprehended. "Just me," he answered, watching relief wash over her expression.

She rushed in to him, handing him a canteen. "Drink all of this," she said.

He tasted some strange tea, bitter and sweet and tangy, but he was so relieved that she'd returned, he would have done almost anything she'd asked. She had syringes, vials and a few bottles that she carefully set out and read, and then produced medical gauze and tape. She unbuttoned his pants, pulling them lower on the left side so she could fully remove the makeshift bandage and replace it.

His left side was red and warm around the bullet wound, burnt flesh crowing the marred skin where he'd cauterized to prevent too much blood loss. She smeared a thick substance over the injured area, and he gritted his teeth as it burned. "Sorry," she regretfully whispered.

It seemed to take forever for her to finish re-bandaging his side and administering medicine, but when she was done, they both breathed their relief. She pulled his head into her lap, her fingers smoothing lovingly over his hair as she tried to comfort him. "You didn't think I'd be back. Did you?" she asked.

"Wasn't sure. I didn't want to hope and then…" he allowed his voice to trail off.

"Be let down?" she guessed.

"Yea. But you came back. So…that's what matters." Wanting to avoid the subject, he added, "Should we head out?"

"Rest a little while. Then we'll go."

"Did you see anyone while you were out?" he questioned. "Anything to give you a clue about what they're planning or what's going on here?"

"Not really. There were two lookouts at the temple, but they were easy to avoid…not very well trained. But we should clear out and try to meet your contact as soon as we can…they may bring in reinforcements."

"Thanks, Jane," he mumbled, his body feeling more relaxed than it had for quite a while.

"For the medicine?"

"That too. But, no…I meant…thanks for coming back."

"I know it's hard to believe right now, but I'm not going anywhere. The only way I can prove it to you is to show you…so that's what I'm going to do."

Her fingers absently dancing over his hair, her lap serving as his favorite pillow, he felt his breath even as his eyes became heavy. He relaxed into the feeling that he'd found his place again.


	5. Chapter 5: Patience

_A/N-Here's the next chapter of this one. Parts of the flashback are more M-rated, for those who'd rather pass on that. I really miss the show, so three cheers for fanfiction! Thanks, everyone!_

 _I definitely don't own these characters, but I sure as hell wouldn't mind if I did!  
_

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Patience**

Travel wasn't simple for the pair. Over the next day, Jane and Kurt climbed down the more wooded side of the mountain, hiking for a few hours at a time and then stopping to rest. She knew how difficult it must have been for him to hike, but he never uttered a single complaint. By the end of the day, Jane noticed that, in spite of the pain he felt from overexertion, Kurt's fever seemed to be gone, but she'd never seen him so exhausted. Jane was relieved that she'd returned for supplies because she knew the dangers of infection.

They slept in shifts, keeping watchful eyes out for anyone who might be following them, but they hadn't seen anyone else since their night in the old abandoned mountain structures. Kurt took the antibiotics and used the strange topical solution she'd brought, but he refused any narcotic since it might interfere with his watch while she slept. She slipped some into his antibiotic shot before his turn to sleep in the hopes that he'd rest more peacefully. During his previous naps, he seemed to toss and turn, and that motion caused him more pain. When he slept, his unconscious body forgot to hide the pain from her.

Kurt slept in the crux between branches of a low dead tree that was easy enough for him to climb into without too much effort, but still up off the ground. Jane had climbed higher to have a better vantage point from which to watch him and look out for anyone who may be searching for them. She heard a voice come from below and realized it was Kurt talking in his sleep. The pain killers she'd given him seemed to cause more restlessness instead of less. She'd never known him to dream like this, so she climbed down to where he was and tried to wake him.

She shook him, trying not to hurt him but to wake him as quickly as possible. When his eyes popped open he looked horrified, devastated and angry, and it made her wonder what in the hell had been going on in his head. Once he seemed to realize the horrors he'd experienced were only in his mind, she said, "Your dreams…is this because of me?"

"No," he shook his head, "nothing to do with you at all."

She nodded, "I'm relieved, I guess. Still, I don't ever remember you having dreams like that before."

"Might have to do with the mickey you slipped me," he said, staring knowingly.

"You seemed to be in pain when you were sleeping earlier. I was just trying to help."

"Stop worrying. Stop feeling guilty. The fact that I got shot has nothing to do with you. The dreams have nothing to do with you. This is not your fault."

"Then what did you dream about?"

He sighed slowly, swiping away the sweat on his forehead with his palm. He finally answered, "Taylor."

Jane waited patiently, her eyes soft and understanding while she rested her hand on his forearm. She didn't say anything, but she had dug her heels in, and she would wait as long as necessary for him to tell her more.

He groaned with irritation and said, "I keep trying to find her…in my dream. I catch my father trying to bury her…she's already gone…she's so small, lifeless. Defenseless and innocent. And I hate him. I want to destroy him, make him suffer for what he did."

"When did you start having these dreams?"

"I've had dreams about her disappearance since…well, since she disappeared."

"Not like that."

"These particular dreams are more recent," he said offhandedly.

"Might have something to do with the fact that I disappeared and you couldn't find me. Probably reopened old wounds." She held his forearm more tightly and said, "You never really dealt with what happened to her. You fought for all those years, looked for her…thought you found her. After you found out what really happened, I don't know if you ever really let yourself deal with the pain. With your rage toward your father."

"I dealt with it," he quickly replied.

They sat silently for a while, and then he offered, "He never paid for what he did, my father. If he really felt bad…he would have turned himself in. But he didn't. He lived all those years while Emma and I searched and hoped and waited…he sat back and played along when I thought I found her, lied, all over again. He could have given Emma some peace…even if he couldn't do that for his own son."

"That's why I have to try to pay for what I did."

"You aren't even the same species as my father," he adamantly argued. "He was the worst kind of monster."

"I know…but I still need to be held accountable."

"It's not the same."

She leaned down into the tree, her back against one thick branch and his against another, facing each other, legs stretched out next to the other person's as if they were resting in a tree-hammock. "It's a dangerous world," she commented after some time. "Must be terrifying for all those parents out there."

He nodded at first and then, after mulling, asked, "Is that why you freaked out when I mentioned having kids?"

"I didn't _freak out_ ," she argued defensively.

"I just _mentioned_ nixing the pill, and the next morning you were gone. Seems to me like you freaked out."

"I told you that wasn't why. I just don't know how to deal with the things I've done. I don't want to drag you into all of that. I don't want you to end up seeing me like some sort of terrorist, or worse, getting killed or hurt because you stood by me…you don't deserve to pay for the things I did wrong. That's not fair," she laughed bitterly and said, "Look at you. That bullet could have easily killed you."

"How many times did you get hurt when I took you out into the field? What did you go through after I arrested you? This is the life we live…it has dangers. I admit that. But we look out for each other. Protect each other. We're a damn team! You can't forget that. I haven't. The only place I want to stand…is by you."

"I was trying to protect you. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you."

"I'm not an accountant or a chef or anything…I chose the FBI before I even knew you. I knew the risks of my job. I took my life into my hands every day before 'Jane Doe' changed my world." He shook his head, "And that doesn't explain why you got so weird after our discussion the night before you left. Even if that wasn't why you left, I know you…I know when you're anxious or uncomfortable. That conversation made you very uncomfortable."

It was his turn to wait patiently, to refuse to budge or continue until he got what he was looking for.

Finally realizing he wasn't about to back down, she said, "You're still dreaming about what happened to Taylor and you have to ask that question?"

"What does Taylor have to do with—"

"Look at us, Kurt. All of us. Look at your childhood. Look at Taylor's. Look at Roman's and mine and what was done to us. Look at what Reade's coach did to those kids. How much proof do we need? If something like that happened to our child…"

"You don't think I worry about Ava every single day, hoping that she's safe? You couldn't say that to me? You couldn't tell me you were scared that something might happen? I would have understood that. I always told you that you could tell me anything."

"But—I was one of the people you protect the world from. I was recovering so many memories. I helped to make all of those plans…helped Shepherd and Roman devise ways to kill people in the name of their cause…our cause. I might have killed more people as a child soldier than you have as an FBI agent…I can't be sure."

"Are you remembering some of that, too? Your childhood?" he asked.

"Bits and pieces," she confessed.

"You never really dealt with that," he said.

"I guess I didn't. We fell in love and tried to forget about the past, but it was still there. I don't want to drag you down, Kurt, when it's time for me to pay for the things I've done."

"You have paid. You paid every day you came into work. Every person you helped. And you aren't dragging me into anything. I fell in love with you…the whole package, and that includes every piece of baggage that comes with you." Jane chuckled fondly so he asked, "What?"

"Something Zapata said a long time ago…when Oliver broke up with me. He said something about his life being so complicated and that he didn't have room for someone who also had a complicated life. I told Zapata about it and she basically said that…what Oliver said was bullshit…that when you care about someone, you make room for them and all of their complications. I guess that stuck with me."

"I've made room," he offered. "Plenty of it."

"I know. I know you have."

"And you've always made room for me. So I guess we don't have a problem," he chuckled. Growing more serious, he added, "Let me help carry all that weight on your shoulders."

She smiled, both of their eyes teary and red. "Are we just going to bury all of this again? Ignore my past, or Taylor's death, and get lost in each other until it all bubbles to the surface again?"

"No," he shook his head. "We're dealing with all of it. We're chasing your new tattoos, making amends…we'll deal with the past. I don't want to risk losing you again."

"And how exactly do I mend your broken heart?" she asked, her voice quivering slightly.

He scoffed, "I don't have a broken—" he paused and looked down when she put her hand over his heart.

"We're not going to bury things, ignore how we feel. I know I hurt you, and I want to make it better."

"Just stick around. We'll help each other through this stuff. That's how you fix that."

"But that takes time. What can I do right now? Just to make it a little better."

"You're doing it already," he commented, and, noting her irritated glance, sat up.

"Be careful," she warned, her hands reaching for his sides to try to help him sit up so he wouldn't be in pain.

His arm reached over her thighs and his hand rested on the rough tree bark on the other side of her while he leaned a little closer. He tilted his head, inviting a kiss, but he didn't close the gap between them. He smiled patiently at her and waited, his eyes falling hopefully to her lips a few times while he waited for her reaction to his offer. She could see the momentary worry in his eyes, and decided to obliterate it. She wanted to destroy any thought he had that perhaps she didn't really want him, or that she wasn't certain if they should be together.

In the next second she acted, not only closing the gap but kissing him fully, lips and tongues melting together in a hotly entwined moment that sent pulses and minds racing. It was almost like another first kiss, unanticipated, warm and uncertain, hungry and seeking an end to loneliness. But then again it wasn't a first kiss, still familiar, the same lips, the same taste, the same feeling of security and love, a kiss shared by people who'd already committed to each other.

He broke the kiss first, and she felt so cold without his mouth against hers. She cleared her throat and said, "Feels like it's been forever."

He nodded his head, but seemed a little flustered, at least for him.

"Did that help…just a little?" she inquired.

"Hunh?"

"Your heartache…does it feel just a little better?"

He furrowed his eyebrows, giving it serious thought, before he said, "Can't tell yet…better try again."

For a second, she was hurt until she realized he was leaning closer for more, this time simply brushing his lips against hers, gradually parting his lips with each pass, holding her face so he controlled the amount of contact shared. "Seems to be helping..." he whispered before he captured her upper lip between his. "What do you think?"

She just smiled and nodded, allowing him to kiss her at his own pace, and loving every second of the decisiveness he exercised. He was controlling the space between them, choosing to be there, to be close to her and allow her to get closer to him. She couldn't believe how excited it made her heart feel. She hadn't expected so much, but noting some silent invitation, she slipped her tongue across his lip and she actually _felt_ the pleasured chill climb up his spine.

When they parted this time, they were both flushed and a little surprised at the unexpected turn of the conversation. She saw the way his eyes drifted over her, and knew exactly what he was thinking without him muttering a single word. He wanted her, unequivocally, deeply, but she knew they'd just promised not to allow themselves to ignore their past and their pain, and he honored that. Plus, she was certain that such exertion would probably hurt him too much to really enjoy. Still, the look was back, that longing, passionate, loving look he'd given her so many times both before and after he had her. With that look, she finally felt confident that he'd be able to really let her back in. If she could be patient, she'd get behind those walls again.

* * *

" _To your last night out as a free woman!" Zapata toasted before the women all downed their shots in the hotel bar during Jane's bachelorette party just days before the wedding._

 _Patterson was so tipsy at this point that she grinned widely and stared every time one of the well-built and undeniably handsome waiters walked by with a tray of drinks. It was amazing how her capacity for verbalizing her thoughts diminished with each drink._

" _Thanks," Jane replied. "Not that I really consider myself a free woman."_

" _You know, you didn't even ask about what happened at Weller's bachelor party. I figured you'd ask me…or at least try to wiggle a few answers out of me subtly," Patterson slurred. "I mean…I would…if my man went out to some club for a last hurrah, I'd want to know what happened."_

" _I guess it sounds stupid," Jane commented, "but I trust him."_

" _Seriously?" Patterson asked._

" _She never asked me what happened at his party either," Tasha said to Patterson. "And Weller said she didn't question him either…I asked him. That's crazy."_

 _They had their bachelor and bachelorette parties on separate nights since Patterson and Zapata wanted to attend both. Allie leaned toward Jane, "He's ridiculously honest, when he speaks, that is. You know that. He wouldn't cheat. It's just not in his DNA. Besides, he's only had eyes for you for a long time…I knew that the first time I saw you together. God, it used to irritate the hell out of me," Allie added with a laugh._

 _Allie and Jane had become friendly, at first for the sake of the daughter Allie and Kurt shared, but eventually they settled into a somewhat easy partnership bordering on friendship. Allie insisted on going to the bachelorette party, and even bought several rounds for the group. Allie was the first to leave, blaming jet lag from the flight out since she, Conor and her daughter had flown out for the party and the wedding. Kurt's daughter, Ava, was supposed to be a wobbly yet adorable flower girl._

 _Once it was just Patterson, Zapata and Jane, Zapata said, "So you're not even a little tempted to go catch one last fling? It doesn't bother you to think about sleeping with just one guy for the rest of your life?"_

 _Jane cast a questioning stare and asked, "Are you serious?"_

" _Have to admit…the thought of just one man horrifies me," Tasha admitted._

" _Why do I feel like you're testing me?" Jane asked suspiciously._

" _I'm not."_

" _So I shouldn't find it at all suspicious that one of Kurt's closest friends is suggesting that I have a fling?" Jane asked with disbelief._

" _I'm_ your _friend, too," Zapata answered. "Everyone deserves one last night. Once you're married, if I catch you cheating on him, I'll destroy you. Don't worry, same thing applies to him," Tasha laughed although they all knew she was serious. "Tonight…no judgement."_

" _I'm terrified of commitment," Patterson admitted somberly, staring at her drink. "Even before my current bad luck streak."  
_

" _You don't seem the type to be scared of that," Jane answered._

" _She is," Tasha explained. "She's more scared of commitment than I am, and that's saying something."_

" _But you're…you know…content with him?" Patterson asked, awkwardly._

 _Wondering why such an innocent question made Patterson squirm, Jane replied, "He's a great guy. You know that. You all love him. I'm…really happy."_

" _So…he's…you know…" Patterson said as Jane and Zapata stared oddly, wondering if they should blame the alcohol._

" _Oh," Zapata finally exclaimed once she understood, "Patterson wants to know if he's good in bed. Apparently drinking makes her revert to a twelve year-old again."_

" _Oh!" Jane answered, blushing a bit. "I mean…yea…_ obviously _."_

" _I believe you, but why 'obviously'?" Zapata laughed loudly._

" _I don't know…I just always assumed he would be…long before I actually knew first hand."_

" _And?" Patterson pushed._

" _And—and I have not been disappointed," Jane said, staring at the bar and turning a much darker red._

" _Wow," Zapata teased, noting Jane's reaction. "That good, huh?"_

 _Jane bobbed her head but was interrupted when Zapata said, "But he's probably a control freak in the sack, too."_

 _Patterson lifted her glass and said, "Oh, definitely. He couldn't turn off 'control freak mode' if his life depended on it."_

" _No!" Jane defended. "He's not like that. Not at all. I am satisfied about…" she concentrated like she was calculating something and said, "…umm…about 180% of the time."_

" _You're exaggerating," Patterson chuckled, "because in order to be satisfied more than 100% of the time…" her mouth opened as a realization dawned and she gasped, "Oh! I get it! Well…that's pretty good. No wonder you're happy."_

" _No complaints here," Jane argued, feeling just as protective about him as she always had._

" _I still think he's probably bossy…giving orders more than taking them," Zapata noted, smacking her forearm against Jane's arm jovially. "Bossy isn't bad…he's good at being the boss at work, that's just his style. He can be good_ and _bossy. Still…sometimes a woman likes to take charge…and I think even those controlling guys find they really enjoy letting go once in a while if they give it a try."_

" _Mmm," Patterson nodded. "Especially someone who's so used to being top dog."_

 _Zapata laughed at Patterson's choice of words before she continued, "The clock is ticking, only a few more days until it's one bossy man in your bed every single night." Then, noting Jane's sudden pensiveness, Tasha added, "You know we're just playing, teasing you, right? We know you're not gonna run out for some strange or anything…that's not you."_

" _Yea. I know," Jane answered, smiling. "You know, this conversation wouldn't be happening without the alcohol. I'm not saying anything else so I don't end up telling you something I regret telling you tomorrow."_

" _That's the beauty of alcohol, isn't it? Lowering inhibitions," Patterson replied. Looking at Jane, she noted, "Damn you guys are like…really in love. Aren't you? Totally, head-over-heels, crazy-in-love, gaga for each other…"_

" _I didn't think it was possible in the real world," Zapata added. "I don't believe in fairy tale shit, but you guys have something good."_

" _We do," Jane confirmed._

 _"To something good," Zapata toasted before she finished her drink._

" _It's kind of sweet, and really, really nauseating at the same time," Patterson added._

" _I'm ready to head up to the suite," Zapata nodded down the bar toward a guy who'd been eyeing up Jane for a while. "You're getting checked out…hard."_

 _Jane looked where Zapata had nodded, and when she turned back to her friends she sneered, "Not my type."_

" _He's pretty cute," Patterson replied._

" _I dunno," Jane commented thoughtfully, teasing, "he doesn't look bossy enough for me."_

 _Tasha and Patterson giggled loudly, and Jane realized they were both far more intoxicated than she was._

" _Oh boy, I think I'm ready for bed," Patterson said shakily as Zapata helped her to her feet. Jane had never seen the pair this inebriated._

" _She's gonna feel like shit in the morning," Zapata said to Jane. "You coming?"_

" _A little later. I need to take a walk and clear my head," Jane replied. "And, guys, thanks for tonight. It was fun."  
_

 _Her friends each hugged her, dropped some money on the bar and walked toward the elevators. Jane finished her drink, and when she saw the man who'd been watching her get up to come closer, she stood and quickly fled for her stroll outside. She thought about grabbing a cab, but decided to go on foot, letting the night air sober her up. Her mind kept wandering back to the conversation at the bar. Kurt was open to suggestion, attentive, creative and considerate, really Jane had no complaints about their sex life…it was fantastic. He'd never ignored or denied anything she'd asked of him because he really seemed to_ want _to please her. But in truth, he really was typically in control. Usually that suited them, but she knew he was more than a stereotype._

 _When she got home, Kurt was sitting on the sofa, drinking beer and wearing only his boxers with his feet on the coffee table. He didn't ask why she was home or what had happened while she was gone. Jane didn't tease him for sitting there in his shorts and wasting a night alone._

" _Hey," he nodded._

 _He stood and walked closer, silently, sauntering patiently toward where she stood near the door. She tossed her jacket on a chair nearby. He stood so close the fronts of their bodies were together, without holding each other. He leaned closer, sliding his tongue over her lips until she parted them for him. Her wrists hooked behind his neck while he unbuttoned her pants and shoved his hands under her panties to curl around her cheeks before he tugged her body against his. They both wiggled her out of her pants before his hands surrounded her waist almost completely and he easily lifted her high enough to wrap her legs around his waist._

 _They kissed as he carried her, his steps cautious because he couldn't really see. He took her over to the sofa, leaning over the arm until she fell back into the cushions and he collapsed on top of her, kissing her deeply while she held his face, whimpering softly into his mouth. She rolled him, forgetting that they were on the sofa, and he fell onto the floor with her on top of him, crashing loudly to the ground as the table was shoved out of the way. "Wait," she said as she held his shoulders to the ground and sat perched on his lap._

* * *

" _What?" Kurt asked, his brow furrowed with question._

" _Some people suggested I should have a last fling."_

" _Oh," he answered, numbly._

" _So I came home tonight so I could have a fling with the only man I want."_

" _You want to have a fling with_ me _before you're married?" he smirked._

 _She nodded, nipping his lip before she asked, "Is that okay?"_

" _I feel so used," he teased, pretending to be scandalized, watching her lift an eyebrow and wait. "I mean, that's not a problem, I like it when you use me," he added roguishly._

 _Without pretense, she forced her hand into his boxers and returned his confident expression as he tipped back his head and groaned appreciatively. After uninhibitedly enjoying her touch for a few moments, he removed her hand and pressed it against his chest to stop her ministrations as he whispered, "So what kinda last fling are you interested in? I don't want to disappoint you…"_

" _I'll show you," she replied._

" _Oh," he answered mischievously. "Then you should take off the rest of your clothes so I can see."_

 _She shook her head._

" _No?" his eyes flashed, "Okay…You want me to convince you? Seduce you? Some kinda role playing thing?"_

" _No," she insisted. "Keep your hands here," she pushed them on the ground next to his body. "No touching unless I tell you."_

" _Or what?" he challenged, wondering exactly what she hoped to achieve through these restrictions, but more than willing to let this little scenario play out._

" _Or I'll stop…and you can use your hands all you want…on yourself."_

 _He chuckled and bobbed his head, "If that's what you want."_

 _Jane smiled nervously, looking down at the man before her like she wasn't even sure where she wanted to start. She was lost for just a second, trying to decide exactly what to do with the willing subject in front of her when he asked, "Everything okay?"_

" _Everything's fine," she said. Wresting control back, she said, "You just need to be patient."_

" _Okay, and—" he began, pausing completely when she reached for his half-hard bulge and started to rub him firmly through his boxers, the cotton sliding over him. His head lulled, his eyes shutting as he took a deep breath._

 _He mumbled something and she asked, "What'd you say?"_

" _Nothing…it's just…your skin is so much softer than my clothes…compared to you, it feels really rough. Your mouth, your skin, inside you…so much better. You're better. I mean," he groaned as she gripped more tightly, barely managing to add, "this feels good, too. Just…nothing feels as good as you do when there's nothing between us. That's all."_

" _Okay. Then w_ _hat do you want me to do?" she seductively rasped._

" _Hey, you want to call the shots and I'm, ah god, umm," he lost his focus beneath her hands before he said, "I'm good with that."_

" _You always listen to what I want… I want you to tell me what you want."_

" _You," he answered immediately, "with nothing in the way."_

 _She moved two fingers through the opening in his boxers and watched him as he moaned his approval, at least at first. Those two fingers softly stroked, without nearly enough friction, but the skin was warm and soft and there was just something so hot about her fingers, narrow and delicate, touching him like that. She traced the shape of him, following the full length, circling over the tip and then moving back down before repeating the process again and again. He watched, seeing the way her hand disappeared into his boxers and the fabric moved as she did. God, it turned him on. He fought the urge to grab her smaller fist and wrap it around him tighter, and wouldn't even let himself think about how it would feel to be inside her, because he wasn't sure if he had the restraint to stop if he fully entertained the idea._

 _Being teased was fantastically erotic and infuriatingly frustrating at the same time. He didn't even realize he was pushing up against her hand until she pulled her fingers out of his boxers and pushed down on his hips. "No moving."_

 _He laughed and said, "You're kidding, right?"_

" _Nope."_

" _I think you'll have a lot more fun if I can move," he cockily attempted to persuade._

 _Ignoring him, she slipped down, resting her knees on the ground between his, and kissed and licked his sex, but still only the parts of him that she could reach through the opening in the fabric that still partially confined him. He felt his leg twitching anxiously, dreaming of rolling her under him and fucking her until she clawed at his back. His eyebrows raised at the middle, a look of pleading on his face._

 _He was so distracted by his body's conflicted feelings of pleasure versus unmet desire that he didn't even notice that she'd slipped off her panties. She hastily yanked his boxers down to mid-thigh. His erection betrayed any sense of nonchalance he may have wanted to convey. He was desperate for her, watching while she unbuttoned her shirt but didn't let it fall from her shoulders. She cat crawled up his body before she took firm hold of his manhood, shifted her hips, and took all of him into her body with just a few lustful lunges. "Holy fuck that feels so goddamn good," he growled, the words slurring together as he sat partially up, unable to control the desperate sound of his words or the lower timbre of his voice._

 _His hands kept lifting from the floor, nearly touching her before he'd clench his fists and force them back down to the ground. He wished he could touch more of her, anything more. He'd had her more times than he could recollect, but it never seemed to temper his desire for her. Hell, they'd had sex before she'd left for her party, hurried and quick because they lacked time. It had been satisfying and toe-curling and hot, and yet just a few hours later, he was there on the floor beneath her, his eyes begging for more._

" _You feel so goddamn good, too," she sighed, her hands resting on his hip and chest while she rode him. At this point she wasn't at all shy or tentative, her body's need erasing any thought of embarrassment. She wasn't careful or gentle or timid. He could feel her desire for him, the very need that emanated from her like a blast of heat._

 _Being taken by her in this way, her passion for him so openly on display, just made restraint more difficult._

" _I just want to touch you. Please," he managed, completely unconcerned about the vulnerability he was demonstrating._

 _She started picking up her pace and she moaned her response breathlessly, her rhythm unyielding, "Not yet. Just let me fuck you."_

 _When he heard her seductive words, he was convinced she was trying to destroy his resolve. His hips were raising from the ground, counter thrusting because not doing so was actually impossible at that point. When she didn't stop him, he moved more, pressing up into the depths of her body, each time hoping she'd allow him to do so one more time. "If you're not going to let me touch you, the least you could do is cuff me so I remember to behave," he requested, bracing his weight on his hands to try to keep some control._

 _She shook her head, smiling with a sweet devilishness that shot straight through him. "Too easy," she replied._

 _When her breath quickened and her soft sounds of approval became faster, louder and more demanding, he knew she was getting close, and it was then that his tentative grasp on control began to completely slip from his fingers. "Please," he said again, somehow both authoritative and pleading, confident and vulnerable, knowing that she understood the request without further explanation. And he fully expected to be turned down again._

" _Okay," she said, and in a millisecond, his reflexes responded, his hands grabbing onto her sides and roughly pulling her against his body, feeling the swivel in her hips as he gazed at the spot where their bodies merged._

 _His hands roamed and touched as if she were entirely new to him, an unexplored form beneath his fingers. She giggled for a moment at his reaction before those giggles became gasps again and she seemed lost in the feeling of him. She'd taken him, and now he was taking her back._

 _When her orgasm began to undeniably envelop her, he knew, or at least he hoped, that she wouldn't be able to ask him to remain passive again. She still wore her bra, so he yanked the one side away from her breast to expose it, stretching and probably tearing the fabric, although neither of them cared or even noticed. He wrapped his arm around her as his lips found that one gorgeous, naked breast and indulged in a long, firm suck as he pulled her nipple into his mouth and carefully grazed it with his teeth, feeling her tense even more with pleasured desire. Her back arched and that just made her pelvis press down even harder onto him, applying pressure in all the right ways for both of them._

 _The muscles inside her began to pulse, gripping and pulling at him, wordlessly demanding that he move inside her. She pumped her hips fervently, shifting her body in jerky waves against his. Her voice melted into louder, higher cries as she clamped down on him and he rose up on his knees as she held onto his neck. He let loose and chased release, desperate for them to come together so he could empty himself into her while she was still panting and moaning in his ear, her short nails scratching at the base of his scalp._

 _She strung together thoughtless, "Omigods,"as they came back down to earth together._

 _He fell back on the ground without bracing his fall, holding her tight against him so he could stay inside her a little longer and listening to her squeal when their bodies jolted together as they landed. They were both panting, breathless and alternating between curses and confessions._

 _"Damn that was really hot," he finally managed once he formed a full sentence that sounded more like one long word. "I mean really, seriously hot."_

" _You think?" she asked, her head against his chest._

 _He could feel her smile. "Hell yea. Why? You didn't think so?"_

" _I did," she said, finally lifting her head and looking into his adoring blue eyes. "I really did. I wasn't sure what you'd think."_

" _My sexy-as-hell fiancée just fucked me numb. I honestly can't feel most of my body right now," he chuckled. "So no complaints here."_

" _It's just…never mind."_

" _Tell me," he insisted, rubbing one hand tenderly over her back, the other carefully pulling the hair away from her face, trying to show her she was safe and loved in his arms._

" _You just like to be in control and—"_

" _You're shyer than I am…usually. That's all. So I'm more comfortable being assertive in bed than you are. And in most things, yea, I can be a bit of a control freak. With you, it's different."_

" _You could barely wait," she giggled. "That was not easy for you, was it?"_

" _Well…you're pretty damn hard to resist," he explained. She sighed as he held her and he whispered, almost as if someone might overhear, "If you ever want something, all you have to do is say so. Or…like you said…you can just show me. I think I like that even better."_

" _I love our sex life. I like that you're…you know…a take charge kinda guy in the bedroom," she admitted._

" _So you only want to be a take charge kinda gal in the living room?" he joked._

" _We just didn't make it to bed," she admitted, looking suddenly a bit shy again._

" _Anything you want," he said. When she didn't answer, he added, "You can tell me anything, you know. I want you to be happy. T—to have everything you want. You just have to tell me."_

 _She smiled and nodded her head against his chest, "I know."_


	6. Chapter 6: Crossing

**A/N-Thank you all SO SO much for your encouragement, kind words and interest. It means so much!**

 **Chapter 6:** **Crossing**

Pointing through the trees, Jane said, "You see that? Those clay and green colored patches down there?"

"Yea," Kurt replied.

"Those are the rooftops of a village at the bottom of the mountain. If you look carefully, you can see the river. That'll be _challenging_ , but once we get across it, we'll be in the village, and a road is just beyond the houses. Your contact should be able to pick us up there."

"Great," he sighed as he carefully leaned back against a tree to rest.

"I think we should keep going until sundown and then stop for the night. That should get us really close to the river. That way, we'll have plenty of rest and daylight to get across the river and meet our ride."

He gratefully accepted the canteen of water she held out and he said, "Fifteen minute break before we keep going?"

"Yea. We have time," she replied, moving him toward a felled tree and helping him lower down so they could sit. Dropping down next to him, she said, "Well, Assistant Director Weller, you are one tough man. No one can accuse you of hiding behind a desk." He was still moving gingerly, but they were making amazing progress, given the circumstances.

"Like you didn't know that already," he jokingly boasted.

He sighed in that hesitant way he sometimes did before he disclosed something, so she asked, "What is it?"

"I should probably tell you something…" he seemed uncharacteristically nervous, and that made her nervous.

"It's okay. Just tell me."

"I stepped down…as Assistant Director."

"What?" she asked with complete shock. This was probably the last thing she'd expected him to say. "Why?"

"The Assistant Director of the NYO, head of CIRG…has to be there. They need consistent leadership and a cohesive team, or people are gonna get hurt."

"You quit for me? To come find me?" she questioned, feeling renewed guilt.

"Not just you. For Patterson, Zapata and Reade, too. Hell, having you back in the field will probably end up saving half the damn world if your work history is any indication," he complimented.

"So the FBI didn't send you?"

He equivocated before he answered, "Sort of. They approved the employment contract I showed you. The FBI can't operate internationally, but they are actively pursuing the kidnapping of three American citizens domestically and the biggest lead, meaning you, had to be followed abroad."

"Kidnapped American citizens? You mean the team?"

"Yea," he replied. "So the CIA—"

"The CIA?!" she angrily asked, understandably still suspicious of the organization.

"Hear me out," he requested, calmly resting his hand on her thigh just above her knee. "The FBI and CIA are actually working cooperatively on this one. I approached Keaton—"

Jane groaned with irritation.

He continued, "—I know…I know how you feel about him…he's not my favorite human being either, but when I told him I was looking for you, he said he owes us, and he owes _you_ more than he'll probably be able to repay. He was willing to help. So he brought me in as a consultant, and he funded this little hunt. I still work for the Bureau…this is just temporary until I could find you and get us back home."

"You did all that to find me?"

"I've been searching for you since shortly after you left. I tried to give you a few days…thought you needed some space. After that, I knew I had to find you…whether or not you wanted to be found. When everyone disappeared, that just added a certain urgency to the situation."

"What's your job at the FBI if you stepped down as Assistant Director?"

"Actually, they offered both of us permanent positions…domestic counter-terrorism consultants. Apparently when they looked over our case history, they were impressed by our solve rate and some of the threats we managed to mitigate. We'll actually be working with that office temporarily while we find the team."

"Did you accept the offer?"

"I said I had to find my wife first so I could discuss it with her."

"Do you want to take it?"

"I dunno," he answered. "We need to get back home first. Then we follow your new tattoos because they're the best lead we have to bring the team home and help you reconcile the past. We need to take this one step at a time. This isn't going to be resolved overnight."

Jane started speaking short phrases in several languages: Russian, Chinese, Lhasa, French, German and Bulgarian.

"Showoff," Kurt joked. "What did you say?"

"I said…'I'm sorry'. I'm just trying to think of more ways to say it, because I feel like I'm starting to sound like a broken record. I didn't want you to have to give up your job."

"I know you're sorry, Jane. I can see it in your eyes. You don't need to say anything. I get how you feel, though…I feel like that sometimes."

"Like what?"

"Like a broken record. I wish I spoke a hundred languages like you so I could find different ways to tell you the things I say too often."

"What do you say too often?"

"You know…the usual stuff. 'I love you'…'I missed you'…'you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen'…that kinda stuff."

"You think you say those things too often?"

"I don't know…I'm not really…the best with words. I wish I was. I wish I could come up with ways to tell you things like that…so you could really know how I feel. I wondered, you know?" Staring at his hands, he continued, "Sometimes I wondered if maybe you left because I was still too closed off. I didn't say the right things—"

"You aren't closed off with me. And I think I understand how you feel, even when you don't know how to say it. I can see it in your eyes, too." They stared for a few seconds too long before she added, sweetly, "Anyway, I didn't fall in love with you for your poetry skills."

"Really? And all this time I thought that was the clincher, when I wrote that poem for you right after we met…" He quickly tried to come up with something and joked, ' _Roses are red, violets are blue'…_ uhh _…'I think you're sexy, do you like me too?_ That was it…wasn't it?

She started to giggle without inhibition. "Wow, yea… What woman could resist that? You're a man of many talents."

"That's what I keep telling you."

"I'm not nearly the poet you are," she teased. "But…I do know a lot of languages." She turned to face him so he could see the way her lips formed the words, "Ya tebya lyublyu."

"What?"

"It's Russian. I'm teaching you… Repeat 'Ya tebya'…"

"Ya tebya," he roughly pronounced.

"Lyublyu."

"Lyublyu."

"Ya tebya lyublyu," she said quickly putting it all together. He parroted her as closely as possible and she nodded, "You're a quick study!"

He said it again and then mused, "Sounds naughty."

She shook her head, "It's not. Unless you consider 'I love you' a naughty phrase?"

"Hmmm. Well I guess it's all in how it's said. I've heard you say those words in some seriously erotic circumstances… sure as hell sounded dirty to me."

She smirked, "You've certainly turned me on a few times without saying anything else."

The tension between them rose, zapping and making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She, too, wished she could say something perfect that would tell him how she felt…she loved him, she wanted all of him, and to give him all of her. But she couldn't think of any words in any language that could truly convey how she felt.

He tried to turn just a little more toward her, and winced sharply as it pulled at his injured side, and that sudden flash of pain on his face made her remember their circumstance. "You okay?" she asked, worriedly.

"I'm fine," he said. His eyes stayed on hers, regretful, and he admitted, "I just really…"

"You really what?"

He clenched his jaw, firming his resolve, and said, "I really think we should get going if we're going to get to the river before dark."

* * *

They made it to the river shortly before sundown. It would have been wonderful and romantic in many other contexts. The river rushed in front of them, a roar from a waterfall just downstream creating a sort of natural white noise. They couldn't see the sunset over the river, but the various colors of the sky still reflected in the water that wasn't foamy.

Kurt watched her start a small fire, something just big enough to boil some water and provide light. He wondered, silently, if he was being naïve. He wondered if one day she'd disappear again, with a few words scrawled on paper that really told him very little. It was hard to forget the pain of those months after she left. She was worth the pain, but he wished he could go back to the blind faith he'd had in the permanence of their relationship that seemed so easy before she'd left. "Whatcha thinking?" she asked unexpectedly.

"Not much," he answered automatically. She nodded slowly, pressing her lips together with disbelief and suspicion, and he decided to tell the truth. He didn't want to hurt her, or make her continue to feel guilt. Hurting her had always hurt him. But he also didn't want to lie. "I just never want to lose you again, that's all. I'm glad you're here…with me."

She smiled gently, her face lit by the orangish glow of the fire. "I don't want to lose you either."

"You won't. At least…not if I can help it."

She seemed to pale slightly at those words, like she felt a wave of worry that something might happen to him, but it was hard to tell by firelight. "I have a favor to ask," she said. "Could you hold me…just for a few minutes? I'll stay awake, keep watch. If it's okay with you. If it's not too much to ask?"

This time he nodded his agreement quickly, feeling less of a need to keep space between them, and noting the hum through his body at the thought of her in his arms. He scooted down carefully, lying on his uninjured right side, facing the fire. He looked forward to a day when ordinary motion didn't require extraordinary effort. He patted the ground in front of him, inviting her, and watched while she sat next to him, gathering her hair and tucking it under her face so it wouldn't be in his…he remembered how often he woke to the feeling of her hair tickling his nose, especially after she'd started growing it out.

She was finally in front of him on the ground, and she carefully shifted back until her body was against his. He cautiously lifted his left arm over her waist, allowing his hand to rest on the ground in front of her belly as his arm settled heavily on her.

His entire arm rose when she took a deep, relieved breath in, and then fell when she patiently sighed the breath from her lungs.

Her body felt perfect next to him, as if it belonged there, and he noted a sense of relief. It was as if he'd been trying an endless set of keys to open a lock, searching for the right one, and he'd finally found the one he needed from a pile of useless ones. It was his physical injury now that prevented him from tightly wrapping both arms around her and holding her as firmly against him as he could without causing her pain. His heart no longer desired the separation for his own protection.

Wanting just a little more contact, he lifted his hand from the ground and placed it against her stomach, splaying his fingers and covering much of the expanse between the top of her pants and her ribs. He pushed just a little to encourage her to lean toward him. He remembered many nights when he'd been curled behind her, and the way the pace of her breathing would increase just a little if she was awake and in the mood.

His arm began to rise more quickly with her side, and just the memory of previous times began to awaken his interest. Her hand reached for his elbow, and rubbed along his arm until she reached his hand. She covered his hand with hers, holding it close against her. She sighed softly, her vocal chords barely engaging, and he lifted his head, whispering in her ear. "I missed you so much. I missed…this."

"Me too," she replied, her voice also showing all of those tell-tale signs he used to look for to see if she wanted more from him.

With her hand still on his, he slid up her stomach, palming her breast and feeling that subtle, gentle rock when she pressed back against him. He wasn't a saint, and he doubted any man could resist the feeling of her body pushing invitingly back at him. As soon as she felt his pants begin to tighten, she moaned, reaching her arm behind her back to feel the growing rigidity.

He had to reach just a little farther to move his hand under the hem of her shirt, and he grimaced, only slightly, just enough that she noticed, and she carefully flipped to face him. "This isn't a good idea."

"I think it's a _very_ good idea," he replied, kissing down her neck as she tightened her fingers on his shoulder.

She backed up, her eyes certain, aroused and fiery, and she said, "I want you so bad…so very much. Right now."

"Me too," he growled, gently touching her lips with his.

"But we can't. That bullet tore through your side, probably punctured muscle, and if things get physical, it's not only going to hurt you, but we could tear something or make it worse. I think we should see a doctor first."

"We could. Or…" he smirked and added, "I seem to recall some really hot action…I didn't move, you did…turned out pretty well. We could try that again."

She grinned, "It turned out _very_ well. You didn't move at first, but as soon as you could, you made up for your previous _inactivity_. That was pretty intense and very physical, if I remember correctly."

"You do."

"I loved it…and I'd love to do it again. It was so passionate. But we both know you weren't entirely passive. You try to pull those moves tonight, and there's no way you'll be crossing the river tomorrow."

"I've been practicing patience. Try me out…I can do better."

He was shocked by the look on her face, the way she still held his eyes unwaveringly even while discussing something like this.

"Trust me, Kurt, there's only one thing I want more than that right now."

"What's that?" he asked, suggestively licking her lip and hearing that little sound from the back of her throat that he remembered well.

"To keep you alive," she said, tapping her finger against his lips. "We need to be smart. Things could get out of control, and you might forget to be careful when your brain shuts down. I could get caught up in the moment…and I know that I will because I always do, and we end up ripping your muscle or re-aggravating the injury and you bleed to death before we can get you help. I don't think any sex, no matter how good, is worth that. Do you?"

He nodded quickly, like he was completely unconcerned at the possibility of death, and said, "Yeah. Sounds good. I think it's worth it!" He chuckled and rolled back just little, trying not to cause himself pain, admitting, "You're right."

"I'm glad you agree," she replied, her fingers resting on his chest.

"But only because I think we could have better sex if we wait until I'm healed so you aren't worrying about me…that's the only reason."

"Not the prospect of death?" she wondered, amusedly.

He moved back toward her, again proving that she was right about his need for caution. "There are…certain things…I could do without over exerting myself."

Her mouth opened slightly as she nodded, but cautioned, "Kurt…no."

"Help me out," he said. Patting the ground, "Scoot up here. Just let me taste you." Between each word he used to try to convince her, he gently kissed her lips, "I'll-be-very-careful."

She still didn't look away, much to his surprise, "I missed your mouth…your body…almost as much as I missed you."

"Let me make you come. That's all I need. Then I promise we'll stop."

She shuddered slightly at the sound of his voice and the prospect of the offer, and then thought it through. "That sounds really unfair. No. You're just going to feel frustrated. It's been so long, and I'd rather wait until we can have each other without tempting fate, when we can really let go and just enjoy it."

He pulled her face to his neck and just held her. Grinning, he said, "You're mean."

"I'm _mean_ because I want you to live or because I don't want to leave you frustrated?" she chuckled.

"Both," he joked.

It was already frustrating. They were both so close to each other. He was so damn turned on that his mind couldn't really embrace her very reasonable arguments. He knew her body well enough to be certain that, beneath her clothes, she was warm and wet and willing, and just nestling his body between her naked thighs would feel like nirvana. They were separated by centimeters, and yet it still felt like miles.

After holding her for a few minutes, he said, "There's something different about you."

"Umm…a whole bunch of new tattoos and longer hair?"

"That, but, something else. You're more…self-assured. You said some things just a minute ago that would normally embarrass you a lot more."

"I haven't been with anyone else," she immediately answered, suspecting that he was inferring something of that sort.

"I wasn't suggesting that…not at all. It's just different. You've always been field-confident. Now you feel more…certain with me. Self-confident."

"I've learned…you're the only thing I'm really certain about in this world. I have to admit, there's something about a man who would do the things you've done to find me. And it feels good to be next to someone I really trust again…on an…intimate level. I just don't feel that type of connection with anyone else."

"Maybe…it's good that you came here. Had some time to yourself."

"Is that a joke?"

"No. I mean, I wish you hadn't left. I missed you. But if it helped you feel comfortable with yourself, and confident with me, well, that's a good thing. Maybe you needed time without me to—"

"No," she interrupted. "I didn't need time without you. I wasn't trying to get away from you."

"Ya tebya lyublyu," he said, only slightly mispronouncing the phrase.

She nodded, taking his face in her hand, "Me too. So much. We'll get you help tomorrow. And as soon as we're sure it's safe, I promise you a weekend with so much sex you'll be begging for a day just to rest."

"You think you can make me beg? Really?" he challenged.

" _Kurt_ …" she began, waiting for several long seconds to try to emphasize her point, "you were practically begging just two minutes ago, and we're still both fully clothed. So yeah. I think I can make you beg."

Looking down between them, he was imagining her body naked again. "Speaking of clothing…maybe you should get rid of some of yours and let me very carefully study and catalog all of your new tattoos. Strictly professional. Not fun at all," he said, lifting his eyebrows suggestively, "It's all work. Very, very hard, grueling work."

"Grueling?" she asked, feigning offense.

"Well…it would be if I couldn't have you after studying you," he suggested, trying just one more time to convince her.

For a split second, he thought maybe he'd persuaded her, and then she patted his chest over his heart, "Nice try. I promise you…I don't want to wait any longer than we have to either."

* * *

As soon as the sun rose, they decided it was time to make final preparations and get across that river, through the village, and to the road on the other side. Weller took his satphone and called his contact, sending the coordinates for the village so someone would pick them up. Right before they left, she tightly re-bandaged him, knowing that he would probably end up soaked, and that soaking in water wasn't good for an injury like his.

Together they both planned the best route across the river. It certainly didn't look easy, but it definitely seemed crossable. They cut vine to use as a rope to connect them in case one of them lost their footing. Kurt tried to talk her out of tying herself to him because he knew she was, at the moment, more likely to make it across without having to drag him along in tow, but she wouldn't even discuss the alternative. She tied the vine rope around his shoulders and knotted it behind his back in such a way that he couldn't easily get free on his own.

After she tied the rope around herself like a harness, just as he was beginning to argue one more time, she said, "We're tied together with or without this rope. You get washed down that river…even if I don't literally go with you, I will figuratively. We both make it across, or we both don't. Got it?"

Jane went first, testing the steadiness of the rocks on the riverbed. They crossed the first half with relatively few problems, but the second half was filled with faster, swirling currents and jagged yet slippery rocks that made crossing more difficult. Weller concentrated on his footing, keeping himself upright by sheer will because he didn't want to endanger her life. The cold water actually felt kind of soothing on his aches, and when he looked up and saw only twenty more feet to cross, he thought the ordeal was nearly over.

But he wasn't the one who slipped.

When Jane hit an unsteady rock, a rough current grabbed her lighter frame and swept her off her feet. Her arms and legs were moving wildly below the surface, bent and twisted by the rapid current and eddies that were nearly invisible from above the water's surface. Just as he thought she might be lost to the water, he wrapped the vine rope around his forearm for stability and summoned all his strength to bring her back to him. The rope held strong, and he wasn't going to let go until they were both safe on the bank. He fought the raging current and pain for her, pulling her back to him. His face was red, his teeth gritting as he pulled, but he didn't even consider surrender.

It was difficult to climb out on the slippery, muddy riverbank, so he shoved her up first as she pulled on tree roots to reach the edge, and then turned to help him. Locals from the village rushed out to offer assistance without knowledge of who the adventurers were, or why they'd chosen to cross the river at such a dangerous point. Three of the locals and Jane yanked Weller out of the water and to his feet. "We did it!" she celebrated, throwing her arms around him.

He felt the cold chill of their drenched clothes slapping as their bodies collided in a relieved hug. When she stepped back to look at him, he tried to focus his eyes on her face as he felt a strong wave of dizziness. His peripheral vision began to turn black. He heard her ask, "Kurt?" but her voice sounded oddly far away.

"You okay?" he asked worriedly. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," she mouthed, but he couldn't hear her words at all anymore.

As soon as he knew she was okay, he dropped to his knees and then fell flat on the ground, his body weak and exhausted from the previous days and their ordeal in the water. He felt her pull his head onto her lap, her fingers gently stroking his hair. "We made it, Kurt," she whispered, although he couldn't hear her. "Just rest until our ride gets here. We're going home."

His vision blackened further, his tunnel of sight continually shrinking until it all went dark and his exhausted body had no choice but to surrender consciousness.


	7. Chapter 7: Blood on the Hands

**Chapter 7: Blood on the Hands**

Jane held Kurt's head in her lap, asking one of the local teens to run down to the road and look for their rescue team. She asked others if they had blankets or other fabric that they could use as a stretcher to carry him closer to the road.

When the bright red, rapidly spreading area of blood on his left side caught her eye, she carefully put his head on the ground and moved next to him. She pulled his shirt up and away from his gunshot wound and saw that blood was flowing far too quickly out of his body. The area around it looked purplish, and she realized that he was probably bleeding internally, too.

"This is gonna hurt. Sorry," she said through her tears as she pushed the heels of her hands down heavily to staunch the flow of blood. As much as she didn't want to hurt him, she was horrified by the fact that he didn't wake or seem to notice the pain when she pressed down, and she worried the situation was far more dire than she'd originally thought.

He looked horribly pale and lifeless, and she watched as her tears dropped onto his shirt. "Please, Kurt," she cried, trying to stay controlled so she could make good decisions, but finding her emotions too strong to suppress. "You can't go! I need you."

She was terrified to move him, but the villagers led the two large rescue SUVs to the spot where they were waiting. A few people hopped out of the vehicles to help. They pushed her to the side as they loaded Kurt into the back of the SUV. They tried to shuffle her into the other vehicle, but she broke the grip on her arm and jumped in the back with him. As soon as one man tried to argue with her, she said, "I'm not leaving his side, so get used to it. Stop worrying about what I'm doing and help him."

Their transport wasn't a medical vehicle, so supplies were limited, but one of the women seemed to know what she was doing. Grabbing a kit, she quickly cut his clothes open and started to assess the damage. The man next to her started an IV line. As they worked on him, Kurt moved only when pushed or pulled by those who were treating him or the movement of the car, and not at all of his own accord.

When the young man was done running an IV, he said to Jane, "There's a charity hospital near here. They'll help."

Once they arrived at the small medical facility, the following moments were a blur as they ripped Kurt from the back of the car and rushed him away, taking him into a closed off surgical area. Jane tried to follow him, but two armed guards stood watch, and one said, "You can't go in there."

She tried to get past them, but the guard added, "Please…wait out here. It's safer if they can concentrate on the patient."

One of the men who'd picked them up from the village below the mountain took her arm and nodded toward a waiting area. "Ma'am, you can wait over here," he offered.

She looked at him and asked, "You work with Kurt?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weller," he answered.

"Jane," she offered.

Extending his hand, he said, introducing himself, "Agent Lemus. We're gathering some intel on the people who attacked you. I should have some photos to show you tomorrow, if you'd look them over for us?"

"Of course," Jane immediately replied.

Two women who'd ridden over in the SUV hurried over to Lemus, "How's Weller?" the first woman asked.

"No updates yet," Lemus replied. "This is Weller's…umm…this is Jane."

Jane's heart ached when they didn't know how to refer to her, and she knew it was probably because she'd left. The feeling of remorse was becoming pervasive, and she wished she could somehow jump back and change everything.

It wasn't the fact that he'd loved her or married her that had put him in danger, it was the fact that she'd left and he'd followed her. That thought refused to leave her head. As she was distracted from her thoughts by whispering nearby, she saw Kurt's new team consoling each other. She'd only been gone a few weeks, _nine weeks and two days_ , an admonishing voice inside her corrected, _since_ _you abandoned him._

Even though they'd only worked together a short while, his new team already seemed to care about him deeply. The new agents were vaguely familiar, and she thought perhaps she'd met some of them before as junior agents or support staff during her years with the FBI.

"Ma'am," Lemus said, getting her attention, "Meet Special Agents Leonard and Myers. We're all part of Weller's team. We were sent to find you."

Jane shook the women's hands. She thought of Kurt, alone, building his team as he mourned his missing wife and friends, and it made her feel guiltier than anything he'd said or done since he'd found her. Her heart ached so thoroughly with remorse that it made her gasp before she said, "Thank you for helping him."

The women nodded, and Jane felt as if they were all looking at her suspiciously, wondering why she'd fled from her husband. She felt oddly jealous of the bonds they'd forged, the slice of his life that she knew almost nothing about, but yet she understood it had been her choice to leave.

And if he died on that operating table, she'd never be able to fully prove her devotion. No matter what, she knew she could never leave again, could never repeat her behavior no matter what the risk or cost. She closed her eyes and silently begged to have the chance to make everything up to him, to make him whole first and foremost. God, she loved that single-minded, stubborn, devoted, amazing man who, for some reason, had set his sights on her. She thought for a moment about the physical agony he must have experienced when he'd rescued her in the water and pushed her onto the safety of the riverbank.

The wait for an update on his condition seemed eternal.

* * *

"Excuse me. I'm looking for the patient's family?" a doctor asked over two hours later.

Jane hopped up and ran over to her. "I'm his wife. Is he okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," she replied in a thick British accent. "He's stable. He lost a lot of blood. Had it taken longer to get here, I'm not sure he would have survived."

"So he'll pull through?" Myers asked from behind Jane.

The doctor waited for Jane to agree to allow Kurt's personal information to be shared, and once Jane nodded, the doctor said, "He should. We need to run a few tests later to make sure we didn't miss anything, but barring infection or other complications, he should make a full recovery. The bullet caused some internal damage, but nothing like what I would have expected. He was very lucky. It appears as if his injuries started to heal, and a subsequent event caused a weakened arterial wall to burst, which was the source of much of the blood. We repaired the abdominal wall as best as we could, but there was a good deal of tearing, and that will take time to heal."

"Please…I need to see him," Jane pleaded.

"Ma'am, he's not conscious anyway, and the risk of infection. I don't think—"

"I need to get in there," Jane insisted, the determined look in her eyes giving the doctor pause.

When Jane realized what the doctor was assessing, she looked down, seeing her own clothes, caked in mud from the riverbank, torn from their travels, and her hands and arms covered in Kurt's blood. "What if I clean up first?" Jane offered. "That would help reduce the risk of infection, right?"

The doctor found an assistant and said, "Take this woman to the showers. Get her towels and clean scrubs to wear."

"Thank you!" Jane said, taking the doctor's hand and squeezing it in gratitude. Turning back to Kurt's new team, she added, "And thanks to all of you for getting him here in time."

She didn't even take time to enjoy the shower. She was so desperate to get clean and get back to him. Looking down at the white plastic tray on the floor of the shower, she saw a stream of blood, dirt and debris pooling before it disappeared down the drain, and it made her recall an incident from childhood, shortly after she'd been trained to kill, and she closed her eyes and shook her head. These memories were the same sorts of thoughts that made her run before, so she could protect him from her and her past. That voice in her head reminded, _he deserves much better._

She brushed the water from her face and shook her head. She wasn't going to let this or anything keep them apart. Her act of separation hadn't saved him. It had only cause him pain, and she refused to let the subconscious saboteur within her keep them apart ever again.

* * *

 _Weller felt a warm blast of thick air and opened his eyes. He was in a humid forest, surrounded by tall, verdant trees. "Wake up, lazy bones," a tiny voice called, little hands shaking his arm._

 _He noticed a distinct lack of pain and a strange sensation he could only understand as a feeling of agility and lightness. He opened his eyes and felt himself tearing up almost immediately when he saw Taylor sitting on a rock next to him, swinging her legs. She wasn't lifeless or helpless. She jumped down from her spot and practically danced while she stood there, her small body appearing incapable of true stillness. It was so damn good to see her fidget again. He'd forgotten how un-still she'd been whenever she was awake. "Are you okay?" he asked._

" _I'm fine," she said cheerily. "Wow, you're fuzzy," she observed, studying his face and reaching out to touch his beard quizzically, "Eww! Scratchy."_

" _Sorry," he laughed gently as he ran a hand over his cheek._

" _And you're huge now."_

 _He looked down at his hands and nodded, "Compared to when I was ten, yea, I grew up…got big and scratchy." He wondered how many of the horrors she'd experienced she remembered. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, desperately wanting to rescue this child, to give her the home and support a child deserved. "Look, Taylor, if I could have stopped what happened to you…I would have done anything to—"_

" _I know," she said, flinging her arms around his neck and giving him a sweet hug filled with child-like compassion. "But it's better now."_

 _His face wrinkled as he started to cry, "That never should have happened to you. I shouldn't have let it happen."_

" _I'm not mad at you. You didn't do anything bad. I'm okay, I promise!"_

 _He started looking around, irrationally trying to think of a way to take her from this place and bring her home to care for like one of his own. He and Jane could protect her, and he knew Jane would be the perfect person to help the girl deal with her past. Jane would love the child just as much as he did. Then he felt nauseated as he realized there was no way he could take her from this place._

" _Jane," he said as panic struck him, and he jumped up to assess his whereabouts. "Oh my god," he yelled, "Am I dead? I can't be dead. I have to get back to Jane."_

" _Your girrrrrrlfriend!" Taylor said like a sing-songy childhood taunt._

" _My wife," he corrected, getting down on his knees near Taylor. "I'm so sorry, kid, I have to go. I want to stay with you but—"_

" _Oh, you can't stay," she said, crossing her arms resolutely. "You're not allowed."_

" _I'm not?" he asked._

" _Nope. Not yet. You're not dead. You're just taking a little break. You were sleepy."_

 _He sighed his relief and said, "I better get back. I can't do this to her, I need to let her know I'm alright."_

" _She's a nice lady," Taylor noted. "I like her."_

" _I like her, too. A lot. I feel really bad leaving you here alone."_

" _I'm not by myself. Mom's here. Don't feel bad. You don't have to feel sad about me anymore."_

" _Is there anything I can do before I go?" he asked._

 _She nodded her head, her eyes a little mischievous. "One thing."_

 _Kurt built her the fire she asked for, and she looked almost giddy with excitement. That image of her, full of life and the desire to cause trouble, filled him with a type of joy he'd forgotten, a different kind of joy than adults could typically feel._

 _She jumped toward him and he hugged her, being far gentler than he needed to. "You gotta go," she reminded.  
_

" _Okay," he said, his eyes watering for what felt like the hundredth time since he'd seen her._

" _Now get out of here," she teased, adding, "butthead."_

" _Don't tell your mom I taught you that word," he said as he remembered a conversation that echoed from ages ago._

 _She giggled after he put her down. "Go see your wiii-iiife…" she started dancing again and making mocking smooching sounds._

" _I will," he said, putting his hand on the top of her head. "I hope I see you again someday, brat," he said, recollecting the way he used to good-naturedly call her that._

" _Dork," she joked back. "This way," she said, wrapping both of her hands around his much larger one and trying to insistently drag him even though she lacked the strength to move him._

* * *

Weller clawed through thick blackness in his mind until he could finally see light. It was bright and overwhelming, his mind foggy, his body so heavy that when he tried to move it felt as if he couldn't. For a few seconds, he thought maybe Jane had slipped him morphine again, but when he wiggled his fingers, he didn't feel dirt, tree bark or gravel beneath him. He felt crisp, clean sheets. He tried to shift just a little, and the seething pain in his side warned him to lie still. He heard himself groan unpleasantly at his current condition.

He had to actually tell himself to open his eyes. Fortunately the bright light he'd clawed his way to wasn't some sort of afterlife, it was a well-lit, makeshift hospital room, the air full of antiseptics and cleansers. "Kurt?" he heard, a hopeful, tearful voice came from next to him.

He looked at her and asked, "Do I know you?"

Jane's face was crestfallen, and then he started to grin tiredly, followed by a weak chuckle that actually stung a little, and he could see the moment she realized he was messing with her. She looked over him, and he felt pretty certain that she was looking for a place to hit him without causing too much pain.

"You think you're funny?" she asked, her frustration showing in her voice.

"Yea," he nodded subtly. "I am pretty hilarious."

"You saved my life," she said, ignoring his little prank. "And it almost killed you."

"We do that a lot…save each other," he gently smiled. Trying to make her smile in return, he looked at her borrowed scrubs and suggested, "What's going on? You wanna play doctor?"

"This isn't funny, Kurt. You really scared me! We need to stop doing this. I can't do this, I can't watch you die some day when our timing is off or things don't go our way," she practically yelled, the emotions of the last few days breaking through after keeping them relatively contained.

He wiggled one finger to tell her to come closer, but she didn't immediately, still a bit upset. Finally she came closer and moved onto the bed next to him, careful to avoid IVs and monitor lines and all of the things hooked up to him. Her hair was still a bit wet, and dampened the white sheet they'd covered him with. She still seemed upset, so he asked, "Did you talk to the doctor? Should, uhh…should I be more concerned?"

She sat up partially, appearing uncertain about what he'd meant, and then she said, "Oh, the surgeon thinks you'll be fine. You started bleeding after you saved me in the river. You were in surgery for a few hours, but she said it could have been a lot worse."

"Surgery? That's why my throat is so dry," he started looking around for water.

She got up and requested a drink for him from the nurse and returned with ice chips. He looked at the wet spot left by her hair. "You stop for a nice day at the spa on the way to the hospital?" he teased.

"They wouldn't let me in here until I got out of those filthy clothes. There was so much blood, Kurt," she said, shaking her head, her voice breaking slightly. "So much…"

He took a couple of ice chips and asked, "You alright?" with as much concern as he would have shown if she were the one lying in the hospital bed after surgery.

"Yeah," she replied equivocally. She carefully lowered back down next to him, her hand softly on his chest, and said, "I meant what I said earlier. I can't keep watching you risk your life. I don't want any more blood on my hands."

"Jane, I have to find my team. They're—"

"I know," she interrupted. "I want to find them, too. But after that… after we bring them home. What would you say if I asked you to come away with me…to start a new life? Leave behind the guns and violence and death. Maybe I can try to do some good…help people."

"You _have_ helped people. Tons of them! And I'm going to be fine!" he insisted.

"But you might not be fine next time. Or the time after that. I don't know what I'd do if…"

"I'm alright," he said, tightening his one arm around her shoulders. "Look, after we get everyone home safe, we'll talk about it then. Okay?"

"It's not just for me…what about your daughter?"

"What about her?"

"What would she do if something happened to you?"

"She'd be okay. She has parents, even if I'm gone. And soon siblings too, apparently."

Jane sat up and gave him a look that conveyed something between panic and devastation, recalling the last time she'd heard Allie was pregnant. But Jane didn't say a word.

"What's that look?" Kurt asked suspiciously. After a second and a realization, he added, "It's not mine! Allie and Conor, not me."

"Oh… I mean…of course. I know that."

He nodded slowly, full of disbelief. "I think that is the most jealous I have ever seen you," he said with clear amusement.

"It wasn't jealousy. I was just confused."

"Uh-huh," he said sleepily. His eyes grew heavy again, the drugs he was on for pain exaggerating the tiredness. "I think I like it."

"Like what?"

"You…acting jealous and possessive," he chuckled a bit. "She misses you, ya know…Ava, I mean. Asks about you every time I talk to her," and then he drifted to sleep again.

Jane stayed in his hospital bed, still resting against his side, her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest, just feeling the reassuring ebb and flow of his breath and his steadily pumping heart. She wondered how it was possible, after everything she'd seen, to still be surprised by just how unexpected and ephemeral life could be. She'd been so close to losing him. Too close.

Jane smiled, tears in her eyes as she thought of little Ava, and Ava's abounding love for her father. Jane loved her, too, ridiculously so, and worried about her often. Every time those innocent little eyes gazed up at Jane, she wanted to be sure that no outside force stole that away. That little girl deserved to hold onto that innocence for as long as possible.

Remembering the feeling of the little girl holding Jane's fingers for stability as she learned to walk, another distant memory surfaced.

* * *

" _It's not so hard," a heavily accented, deep voice said. "Just take it. And do as I say."_

 _Alice reached out, feeling numb as she did every day since her parents had died. For months, every time the little girl woke, she thought she could feel the slick stickiness of her parents' slowly drying blood on her hands, and smell that weird smell of blood…strangely like the old fence behind the house where she'd lived._

" _I said take it!" the man said, his voice growing angrier and threatening._

 _She glared at him. He'd seemed so nice, when he'd first taken them. He smelled of a unique and overpowering cologne that would be hard to forget. He'd promised to help her and Ian, but she'd grown to hate him, and everyone there. And that hatred grew by the minute. The only one she didn't hate was Ian._

 _Cologne man grabbed her brother, using the gun she was supposed to have taken from him. The man cocked the gun and held it to Ian's head, and the boy began to cry. Alice couldn't remember the last time she'd cried. The man added, "You shoot her," pointing to a bound woman on the floor nearby, "or I shoot him." The man screamed, the veins bulging in his wrinkled pink neck, "Choose!"_

 _She didn't say a word, using all of the force she could muster to yank the gun from the man's hand while she boldly stared him in the eyes. The gun felt so weighty when she alone held it, and she had to use both hands to lift it. The handle was still warm from the cologne man's grasp. Her finger could barely stretch to the trigger. She extended her arms, pointing the weapon at the sobbing woman. 'It's a lot heavier than when we shot targets,' little Alice thought as her eyes followed the barrel of the weapon to make sure it was pointed correctly. She knew there would be penalties for missing._

 _Ian yelped as the man gripped the boy's arm so tightly it would certainly bruise._

 _The sound of the gun boomed hatefully in her ears._

* * *

Jane woke from her dream with a jerk. Kurt was sleeping peacefully next to her, her hand still on his chest. At some point while she'd dreamed, he'd moved his hand to her wrist, keeping her arm stretched across him and her hand over his heart. She knew she'd have to tell him about these memories, to share some of the things that really terrified her about her past because it was haunting her. In spite of his reassurances, she was still worried about how he'd react. She didn't want to destroy the way he looked at her.

The doctor returned and said, "Ma'am, you can't sleep here. He needs to rest."

"I'll move to a chair," Jane offered.

"Actually, we can take you to the other agents. They're resting in our bunkhouse."

"I'd rather stay and keep an eye on him," she insisted.

"She stays," Kurt said, tightening his hold on her wrist, so she wouldn't leave the bed.

The doctor began, "You'll recover much faster if—"

"She stays, or I leave right now. Got it?" Kurt impatiently restated, although he never even opened his eyes. When she settled back down in the bed, she heard his contented sigh.


	8. Chapter 8: Moments in Between

**A/N-I'm sorry for the delay. I was on vacation and had some technical difficulties. Thanks so much for all of the feedback and support! I hope to have the next chapter of my other story up within a few days.**

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Moments in Between**

Jane's eyes opened just a sliver and she could see Kurt watching her, a contented smile on his face. It had taken longer to get the intel, which was fortunate in a way, because it gave Kurt a little extra time to heal.

It was the second night she'd slept curled up next to him, and after surgery, fluids and a few pints of blood, Kurt was looking more like himself, mostly. Jane reached up and rubbed his face, tugging on the end of his beard since it was getting shaggy. "Considering a new career…as a lumberjack," he suggested.

"I think they wear flannel and suspenders instead of hospital gowns that open up the back."

"Are you sure?" he asked and she nodded. "Damn," he joked, "I was enjoying the freedom of these new clothes."

She giggled and shook her head, perfectly contented to stay there for a while longer. "I've never seen your beard this…full."

He rubbed a hand over his head, noting the length of his hair and exaggerated, "I can practically braid this."

She took a moment to look him over. "Were you watching me sleep?" she asked, knowing the answer and smirking at him.

"Ah…yeah," he answered. "But only because I don't have a TV."

"That's the only reason?"

"Yes," he responded, although he shook his head 'no' as he spoke.

A nurse came in to check his vitals, and Jane climbed out of bed to give him some space. "I'm going to need my clothes," he said to Jane.

"Everything you brought is ruined. Everything you wore was cut off of you," she responded, "and your other set was ruined when you were shot. So either you need to learn to sew, or you're going to have clothes with lots and lots of _freedom."_

"That bad, huh? I'll have to find something else."

"I'll look around," she offered.

* * *

Jane scavenged around and found some clothes and grabbed hair clippers so he could cut his hair and trim his beard.

When she returned, she saw Agent Myers in his room, leaning down over him as she handed him a folder. Myers put her hand on his shoulder as she said, "We're so glad you're okay. I—I'm really glad."

"Thanks—" he abruptly stalled when she hugged him, his focus clearly honed on the case.

Jane had always thought he was quite possibly the best hugger. He was the first person to really hug her as 'Jane' and she'd never forgotten the comfort, the way she seemed to fit with him. Whether she was the one hugging him or he was the one hugging her, she always had the same feeling that they were melting into each other.

He didn't look the same when Myers hugged him, and Jane realized that he never looked as comfortable hugging anyone but her. He hadn't even noticed Jane yet, since she was enjoying the moment as an unseen observer. "Is this all of the available surveillance?" he asked Myers, obviously trying to return to work.

"Yes, sir," Myers said, sitting on the edge of his bed, still remaining close.

"Nice work," he replied, spreading out various photos and documents and really missing Patterson and her computers, and those explanations on huge screens that would sort through all of this information for him.

Jane watched as Myers stood up and looked over Weller's shoulder so she could see. The younger woman seemed to have quite a crush on her lead agent, and Jane remembered feeling the same way not all that long after they'd met. Seeing Kurt interact with someone else made Jane acknowledge just how differently he'd always treated her. As she watched the pair, she saw just how easy it would have been for him to find comfort in the arms of another woman during their separation, but yet she didn't doubt he'd remained completely faithful.

Suddenly, Weller tapped one of the photos and looked at Myers, "We got a lead. I need to find Jane."

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, and Myers nervously looked around for help. "Are you allowed to get up?" Myers wondered, although he ignored the question.

Jane stepped in and asked, "Find something?"

"Yeah," Weller responded, a determined look on his face. He pushed one large grey photo toward her and said, "Recognize anyone?"

Jane stared at the photo for a few seconds, then placed it down on the bed next to him and loudly tapped it. "Her. Sandstorm, right?"

"Yea. Devon, I think. Parker's girlfriend. I made a deal with Parker for intel, and in exchange sent Devon to London."

"Apparently she repaid the favor by shooting you," Jane wryly answered.

"She probably blames us for Parker's death," Kurt winced slightly as he stood, but definitely looked steadier on his feet than he had for a little while.

"So if Sandstorm, or what's left of it, was looking for us to kill us, why go through the whole elaborate setup with the tattoos and kidnappings? Why not just kill us?"

"I doubt Devon's part of Sandstorm anymore. After all, Parker was trying to protect her from Shepherd when he betrayed them…I think Devon's acting separately."

"You think Roman sent the box and organized the kidnappings, but Devon is after us for revenge?"

Kurt sighed, "It's possible. Maybe I was somehow tracked. Who knows. But if we are being tracked, we're not safe. We need to sweep the box and anything else we have."

"I'll see what I can find," Myers said as she left the room.

"Maybe Roman has the team…and he wants to make a trade for Shepherd," Kurt suggested.

"When he was with her, it always seemed like…she kept him on a pretty short leash. Part of me hoped he'd try to get out on his own. Find his own way."

"Maybe. But he's spent almost his whole life following other people. Taking orders from your captors as children, taking orders from you, taking orders from Shepherd. He's never really been out there on his own. It's gotta be hard."

"I told you I've been remembering things. I just…don't want there to be secrets between us," Jane explained as she sat down on the bed. He nodded his head and looked at her, taking a seat by her side. His face was empathetic as he listed, but he didn't say a word, so she continued, "I remembered the first person I killed…as a kid." Kurt put his hand on her back, comforting and reassuring as she went on. "She didn't do anything to me, she wasn't a threat. She was tied up on the floor. This man, the one who brought Roman and me to the orphanage to be trained, he made me choose. He put a gun to Roman's head and said he would kill my brother if I didn't kill the woman. And I did. I didn't argue. I didn't cry. I didn't feel remorse. Just anger. I was really young, Kurt. Probably six or seven. I could barely hold the gun. It was a selfish choice and I made it. And after that, I killed more people. The next one, at least the next one I remember…there wasn't a gun to Roman's head. I just walked in, killed the man and walked out. Like it was normal. Like delivering mail and heading home."

She felt the tears dampening her face, and he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "You saved your brother's life…and you consider that selfish?"

"I didn't want to lose him. He was all I had. So in a very real way, it was selfish."

"You were put in an impossible situation, forced to make choices and decisions that no adult should be forced to make, and you were just a child. These people, Jane…the people who train children like that…they're the monsters. They're the selfish ones. Not you. They rip the humanity from the most vulnerable people, manipulate and desensitize them, beat them down, make them obedient. It's cold, systematic, and it's terrible. And it's not your fault."

"But that woman, the first one I shot. She didn't deserve to die."

"No," he shook his head, "she probably didn't. But you weren't responsible for her death. You were a weapon used by someone else. An abused child forced into situations by adults with agendas, adults who are so heartless and amoral that they're willing to corrupt and use children as a means to an end. What they did to you, to Roman, to all of those kids… _that_ is unforgivable."

"I just can't forget her face…she was pleading, innocent."

"She was a casualty in a terrible war. We try, Jane, we try with everything we have to protect the innocent. But sometimes people who don't deserve to die do." Jane felt unconvinced, but he took her hand in his and said, "When I was first with the FBI, maybe two or three months after Quantico, I was sent into a hostage situation at a bank. There was a bomb, everyone locked inside. Agents outside were trying to cut through the door, but it was slow going. We didn't have much time, and another young agent, a guy I was at the academy with, tried to disarm it. But I saw he was about to pull a wire, and you could just tell it was the wrong one. There were sixteen civilians in that bank, five agents, who all would have died or been injured. I pushed him away, grabbed the bomb, put it in the vault and locked the door. Just as I did, the team outside breached the door and got everyone out of harm's way."

"You saved them!"

"Not really," Weller said. "The team outside managed to get everyone out just seconds before it went off. So everyone would have been fine anyway. After the explosion, they were doing a headcount, realized that there was still a person missing. An assistant manager, this young guy just out of school, was hiding in the back of the vault. Died from the bomb. He died because of me."

"You don't know that."

"I locked him in the vault with the bomb. It was my decision. Every time I think about that day, I think about his wife. She was standing outside the bank, waiting to see if her husband was among the rescued. Everyone else was celebrating when they saw the people they cared about come out of that bank. She was holding a kid, a toddler, maybe one or two years old. She just kept waiting. And when she realized that he wasn't coming out…" Kurt paused as he obviously remembered the moment. "Well, when I think about that day, I don't think about the people who lived. I think about the one who died. And the fact that he died because of my actions."

"No. You didn't know. You did what you thought was best in a bad situation—"

He smiled and said, "Just like you did. And I had the benefit of training, _years_ of training, and the fact that I was an adult. I understand how you feel. The guilt you carry. But that guilt, if you let it, can cripple you. It can cloud your judgment, and prevent you from seeing all of the good you do. You were an innocent. A pawn used by terrible people, with no regard for your life, no concern for what they were doing to you and everyone like you. And the fact that you still feel so much guilt…well that just proves exactly what type of person you are. A good person, one who cares more for other people than herself time and again. So no, you can't convince me that you're a monster."

"I know you think you mean that."

"I do mean that. Do you think less of me, after what I just told you?"

"No. Of course not."

"It's no different. You look at the things I've done in context, so why can't you look at the things you've done in context?"

"I-I…" she started to argue immediately, but paused. "I don't know."

"They took your childhood. They robbed you of the choices every person deserves to make. They took your family, hurt your brother. Don't let them take the rest of your life, too. This is who we are now. So you can say anything you want, tell me whatever you want to tell me. I'm here. And I'll listen to you and I'll hold you and tell you that it hasn't changed how I feel, whatever you need…but you won't convince me that you're anything other than the amazing woman I married." He smirked, his eyes soft and empathetic, "And you know how stubborn I can be. So stop trying to change me."

Jane weakly chuckled, but Myers walked in, interrupting the moment, and said, "We can use this to do a full sweep of your belongings."

"Great," Kurt said, "I'll get a shower and then we can get back out there."

Jane held up a pair of clippers and asked, "You want to keep the lumberjack look or are you going to return to that classic _Weller, FBI_ persona we all know and love?"

He took the clippers and replied, "Why mess with a classic?"

* * *

Weller disappeared into the shower room next to the operating room, grateful for the fact that he'd be able to shower away the smell of antiseptic and blood. It was time to get back on the job. Hurt and helpless didn't suit him.

After washing away some of the evidence of injury, he found the clippers she'd given him and stepped out of the stream of water to cut his hair. A bottle of shampoo crashed onto the floor when his elbow knocked it down, and Jane burst into the small room to check on him.

"Jumpy?" he asked with a knowing grin.

"You almost died, Kurt. So, yea, maybe I'm a little jumpy."

"Eh, that bottle didn't stand a chance," he joked, holding an invisible gun in his hand and pointing at the shampoo on the floor, trying to lighten the mood.

She scowled, but ineffectively, before she smiled back, shaking her head. "I'll get a shower after you, then we can meet with the team to plan our next step."

Moving faster than she thought he could, he stepped forward and hugged her, soaking her fresh white tee shirt and then shaking his head so tiny droplets of water flung from the edges of his hair and rained down on her.

"Kurt!" she reproached.

"Ooops," he disingenuously apologized, "you're all wet."

Keeping his left arm close to his body so he didn't pull at his injured side, he grabbed the bottom of her shirt with his right hand and pulled it over her head. She didn't resist, moving her body so the shirt came off easily, even though she tried to appear disapproving.

"Since you're already wet, you might as well shower now," he suggested. "Proper time management…"

She used her foot to pull the plastic shower bench forward and said, "Have a seat. I'll cut your hair."

With stubborn opportunism, he replied, "Only if you lose the pants," even though he knew she was offering to help him so he wouldn't pull at his stitches when reaching over his head.

She didn't respond, so he sat down, reaching with his one arm and popping open her button, sliding down the zipper, and tugging at her pants patiently. They were wet and clung to her body, so she helped, the sound of squishy, heavy slapping fabric filling the small shower space. He didn't ask her to take off her bra or panties, happy enough, for the moment, to look at her nearly naked body. His mind felt a little numb as he looked at her, so distracted by the sight of her that other thoughts had to momentarily be pushed aside.

She stepped behind him, her fingers pushing his head forward so she could begin cutting. She'd watched him cut his hair plenty of times, always having closed the shower stall door at home so the thousands of sharp tiny pieces of hair didn't end up absolutely everywhere. She swore some of them had knitted themselves into the fabric of their towels. So he certainly noticed when she didn't complain about it this time.

After she finished the back, she stood in front of him, her breasts presented like a gift before his eyes. Covered by the black bra, her nipples poked against the fabric in a way that goaded him into action. As she ran the trimmer over the top of his head, he leaned forward, carefully grazing his teeth over one, scratching through the cloth before he started to suck, the slurpy sound of water being pulled through fabric resounding. Her free hand involuntarily grabbed the back of his head while she held the trimmers, and she moaned, "Do you want your hair cut or not?"

Without removing his lips from her breast, his muffled voice answered, "Not," before he continued.

"You're lopsided."

Although he knew she was referring to his hair, he mumbled, "Sorry," before he moved to her other breast. His hands returned to her sides, her beautifully sloping curves still burned into his memory as he relearned them. She smacked his hand as it curled around her hip and he gazed up at her, trying his best to appear innocent, although he failed miserably.

"You're trying the puppy dog eyes?" she asked, running her hand through his freshly buzzed hair to look for any spots she may have missed.

"Depends. Is it working?"

She shut off the trimmers and said, "Nope," but leaned down and kissed him anyway. He started to tug her down onto his lap, noting her brief attempt at deflection before she surrendered with, "You have no idea how much I've missed you."

"I have a pretty good idea," he replied as she dropped her remaining clothes down onto the floor.

They certainly hadn't found the most romantic of locations or times, but their entire relationship had existed in moments like this, moments stolen between shootings, bombings, mysteries and death. Had they not found these spaces in between, they wouldn't have had a personal relationship at all. And it was oddly appropriate that they rekindled their intimacy there with a few minutes snatched out of the chaos.

"Promise me you'll be careful?" she whispered. The moment he nodded she turned him to the side so his back was against the shower wall and she stepped over his thighs as he still sat on the shower bench. She dropped roughly into his lap, her arms flung passionately around his neck.

He chuckled at the strength of her enthusiasm, and her somewhat rough treatment of him after making him promise to be careful. Realizing that she was about to apologize, he shook his head, "Don't stop. I like it when you're demanding."

For a moment she stalled, and he thought her shyness was about to creep back in, but instead she reached for his sex, faintly pumping a few times to provoke his readiness, and she said, "Tell me if I hurt you."

He looked down at her hand on him, a sight that had always blown his mind and tested his control. His eyes caught hers for a moment, flashing green eyes fiery with desire, that met his before they mischievously looked down over his body. It had been so long since he'd been touched like this, and it felt like it had been even longer because of the way his heart had longed for her as much as his body had.

Attempting to wrest a bit of control, he reached between her legs, feeling the silky dampness that coated her most delicate places, craving that warmth that he had been lost in so many times and so desperately wanted to be lost in again. He still remembered the exact contours of her, the way she felt while the tip of his finger skated and swirled, and he enticed sounds of approval from within her. His attempt at control had backfired, he thought, as he felt his body racing along to a far too early finish as he got swept up in the sensation of their mutual exploration.

He took a few deep breaths, distracting himself by focusing on the water that was splashing around him, the cold plastic at his back, anything but the warm inviting body over his. Then he realized she was moaning, quietly, for the most part, and distraction felt like an inordinately daunting prospect. She complained when he pulled his fingers away from her sex, and he wrapped his hands around her hips and looked up into her eyes as he pleaded for them to become one. Her hand still on him, she scooted forward as she dropped down, allowing him to sink persistently into her body. With a momentary rational thought, she put a hand on his stomach to remind him to be cautious, and she whispered, "Relax and close your eyes."

He replied, honestly, "I can't."

She smiled approvingly before she started to move over him, her hands trailing over his chest as her hips rocked in his lap. He could feel her gripping him, squeezing him into her body at the same time that she moved, the tips of her toes stretching to the floor for balance. His hands tightened around her waist, lifting her with his arms so he could keep his hips still. As she grew close, she dropped her forehead against his, her arms tightening on his shoulders as she unrelentingly bounced in his lap. The very second he heard her orgasmic cry begin, he unleashed his control. The flood of hormones and emotions dulled any pain that his own body's spasming caused as he pushed up into her, his hands pulling her down onto him to meet his last few plunges into her core. He'd been chasing this reunion since the moment she'd left.

He felt her lips over his, sweetly whispering, "Shh," as she sighed and giggled and panted. He hadn't even realized he'd made a sound. "You were supposed to be careful," she admonished.

"I _was_ careful," he groaned. "I'm fine. Better than fine."

There were blissful seconds of pleasure before he felt the tugging stab in his side resume, although he really didn't care about its complaints. He held onto her so tightly, like she might float away if he let go. Their heads rested on each other's shoulders. He wondered if he should loosen his grip, feeling like he was letting a bit too much neediness show, but when he lifted his head and looked at his arm, he saw her hand holding onto him just as tightly, perhaps more tightly. Her other hand cradled the back of his neck, and he could feel how firmly she was hanging onto him there, too. "Am I too heavy?" she asked, her voice barely audible. "Do you want me to move over?"

The thought of separation was the furthest desire from his mind. "No way," he finally answered.

Her half smile told him how much she still regretted running from him. Her eyes expressed exactly how much she loved him. And the way she held onto him told him everything he needed to know about her determination to stay by his side. He searched for some way to respond to things she hadn't even said, but before he could speak, the nurse tapped jarringly on the door. "Sir, do you need help? Did you fall? You pressed the call button."

"Oh," he suppressed his amusement as he looked around for the lit up button one of them must have bumped into. "I'm okay."

"Are you sure you don't need any assistance?" the nurse asked again.

He looked down at his wife's naked body, slowly dragging his fingers down her back before he replied, "I'm just fine. I've got everything I need."


	9. Chapter 9: Code

**A/N-Thanks again to all of you great readers and writers out there for keeping these stories alive during the hiatus. Admittedly, this chapter is sort of transitional, but I felt it was needed before moving forward.**

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Code**

 _-Two Years Earlier-_

 _Weller and Jane didn't go to work at all the day after Jane showed up at his door and confessed her love for him. The whole team had bets on how long it would be before they'd hear from Weller. It had been just slightly longer than 24 hours when Weller sent a group text to Patterson and Zapata (because he still wasn't sure if Reade was coming back), 'Anything need my immediate attention?'_

 _Of course his team did everything they could to give their boss a few days off. The same text came each day for the next two days, repeated word for word, but on the following day, his text read, 'Anthill need my meditate at tee?'_

 _Patterson shrugged at Zapata and said, "He sent that text in a hurry, didn't he? Talk about an autocorrect fail."_

" _He still hasn't noticed the mistake," Zapata noted an hour later._

 _Later that same day, Zapata called everyone to Kurt's office and shut the door. She'd been using it since he'd left her in charge. Reade was back, at least for the time being, and once he and Patterson were sitting down, Zapata put her voicemail on speaker. Reade's eyes grew wide with surprise and Patterson's head tilted inquisitively as they heard some sort of unintelligible vocalizations. Then they heard the distinct sound of Jane's laughter before she squealed playfully, "Put me down!"_

 _It sounded distinctly like the pair tripped or fell or did something highly uncoordinated before the team heard a noise that was wholly unfamiliar: Weller laughed until he was nearly breathless. They'd never heard anything like it from him before._

 _Then they heard a muffled swooshing sound, like a hand moving over the microphone on the phone, and Weller said, "Wait, dammit…"_

" _What?" Jane asked, still giggling, sighing as she tried to catch her breath._

 _His voice grew serious for a second as he said, "I think I called Tash—" and the call came to an abrupt end._

" _What the hell, Zapata?" Reade loudly complained._

" _I'm not really sure what you want us to do about that," Patterson questioned with a mischievous glint. "What's the big deal? I mean…they deserve to have fun once in a while."_

 _Reade and Zapata shot glares at her for a moment, then Reade shook his head and continued, "There are certain things that you can't un-hear once you've heard them."_

" _Exactly," Zapata said, pointing one decisive finger at the center of the desk, "I had to hear it. So you have to hear it."_

" _You're in charge," Reade countered. "I don't think I have the necessary clearances for that kinda stuff."  
_

 _Patterson chuckled, then added soberly, "With power comes tremendous responsibility."_

 _"That's right," Reade agreed. "I don't need to know about them getting frisky, or whatever that was."_

 _Zapata asserted, "We're family, dammit. You've said it yourself. And family shares pain. I had to hear it, you have to hear it."_

* * *

 _Weller hadn't set foot in the NYO for six and a half days. It was his personal record, at the time._

 _Patterson and Zapata saw Jane first, looking fresh faced and more carefree than they had ever seen her. She nodded at the team, blushing thoroughly before she stopped for a moment to talk to one of the techs who'd eagerly welcomed her back._

" _Wow," Zapata noted, ignoring Patterson's attempt to warn her that Weller was approaching, "I think we just discovered a whole new shade of red—"_

" _Alright, that's enough," Weller said authoritatively, coming up behind Zapata. His arms were crossed and his look severe. "You guys want to rib me, go ahead. But I don't want Jane to feel uncomfortable. I'm sure it's awkward enough for her since some people already think she's working me to get ahead in the FBI. So go on…get it out of your systems. Say whatever you need to say to me right here, right now…" he uncrossed his arms, looked at his watch, and then firmly re-crossed them, "You have two minutes."_

 _Zapata looked like she would disappear into the floor if she could figure out how to do so, but Patterson flipped around the screen nearby and said, "Ooo-kay. I'm not sure what this has to do with you or Jane."_

 _Weller stared at a map on the screen she was looking at, a heat map with colors that spanned from dark reds to yellows and various shades of green that illustrated instances of reported crimes geographically._

" _We were comparing some of the locations we found in the Sandstorm documentation with other crime data…I was hoping to find some overlap," Patterson coolly stated._

" _Oh," Kurt said, shaking his head. "I—uh—misunderstood." He looked apologetic, although he didn't say that specifically. "Let me know if you find anything," he added before he left to check email._

" _Nice save," Zapata chuckled, relieved that Patterson had covered for her and the comments she'd made about the fiercely blushing Jane._

" _We thought he was protective of her before…I'm sure that's only going to get worse," Patterson replied._

" _You guys talking about me?" Jane teased as she approached with a smile._

 _The other women each hugged her, welcoming her back, and they were distracted from Jane's question as they caught up with each other. After Weller called Jane to his office, the two conspiring friends breathed a shared sigh of relief. "We need a code," Patterson said. "Something subtle…so we can communicate when they're around. Like a pattern or rhythm."_

" _You think Weller won't notice if we start clapping when we see him?" Zapata joked. "He'll think he walked into a musical."_

" _He'd notice that…but he might not notice keyboard stroke patterns or pen clicks. Just a few basic phrases. So we don't get caught like that."_

* * *

Patterson had no idea how long she'd been trapped in this cell. There was a light that would come on occasionally, probably only for two or three hours before it shut off again, but there was no way to mark the passing of time with any certainty. She wasn't even sure why she'd been taken, or by whom, but she knew she had to keep her mind sharp. When the lights were on, she studied the room as best as she could, committing it to memory in the hopes of one day escaping. Each day, she came up with programming challenges, and wrote the code in her head. She'd replay games in her head, too, trying to remember each strategic move from a game she and David had enjoyed together. The room was clean and dry, with basic comforts, and food was regularly delivered through a pass through, but she never saw another person. The boredom, loneliness and uncertainty were stifling.

It was mostly dark and always silent, all day, every day. The silence was playing tricks on her. Sometimes she swore she heard Borden's voice in the distance, conversing, plotting some scheme that she was powerless to stop. She desperately tried to recall the evidence of his demise in her mind, but she started to wonder if, somehow, he'd actually survived. Her logical mind argued that there was no way, but every day she feared her door would open, and he'd be standing on the other side, glowering at her.

The funny thing was, people seemed to assume that her job was a safe one, as far as jobs with the FBI were concerned. She was supposed to be stored away in a lab, far from gunfire and danger, but as she recalled her recent past, it seemed like that was not the case. She'd been abducted and nearly killed by Owen Lyman, been Borden's target as the mole, and beaten, abused and bugged by Shepherd. By Patterson's count, being a lab geek seemed to be pretty risky.

As she was trying to complete one of her self-imposed programming challenges, she started to imagine that she could hear one of the old codes that she and Tasha had come up with to surreptitiously communicate about Kurt and Jane.

 _Tap-ta-ta-ta-tap-tap. . . . Tap-ta-ta-ta-tap-tap. . . . Tap-ta-ta-ta-tap-tap. . . ._

Patterson closed her eyes and drummed her finger in time with the expected sounds, accurately predicting the sounds and pauses and the spaces in between. She smiled, certain that her mind was playing tricks on her, but somewhat happy as she was transported back to a better time. Then she began to wonder if maybe the sound wasn't all in her mind. After all, there was something about it, something metallic and echoic, like a clanging pipe. She jumped up and rushed over to the sink. Feeling underneath, she touched the cold metal pipe and actually felt the same rhythmic tapping that she'd heard.

She searched through her mind for the meanings of the various codes they'd developed. There were only a handful of codes, so she was certain this one meant, "Let's get out of here."

Usually she or Zapata would initiate the sound when the lingering looks between Kurt and Jane had begun to make anyone else in the room feel really uncomfortable, or those times when it just seemed kind to leave the couple alone. Now the code obviously meant something far more insidious: Zapata was probably being held captive there, too.

Patterson found a toothbrush, one of the few basic comforts they'd been allowed, and held the brush end. Using the handle to tap several times very rapidly and loudly so the other signaler, if there was actually someone else sitting below a sink nearby, pause. Once the distant tapping stopped, Patterson sent back the same code, and waited. Her heart pounded as she was desperate for an answer, for any sort of communication with another person, no matter how rudimentary. After three long seconds, the code came back. Patterson grinned.

* * *

After Jane and Kurt had managed to steal a few minutes alone in the shower, reality returned. She wished they could sneak away, have a couple of days alone, or even a few hours to themselves, but life wasn't going to be that kind. As much as she wanted time to repair and strengthen their somewhat battered relationship, neither could imagine taking a leisurely break while their friends were being held against their will. They had to leave, to hurry back into the fray and, once again, save some of the people closest to them.

Jane understood too well that sex wasn't a panacea that would somehow make everything better between them, but it was a sign that things were headed in the right direction. When Kurt had first found her, he'd been very specific about the discomfort he'd felt at shared physical contact, and at least he'd stopped trying to keep his distance. He seemed to be growing more comfortable with her by the day, and she had forgotten how much those little glances and fleeting contact meant to her. It connected them. Plus, he was looking more like himself with each passing hour, moving carefully, but healing well, given the circumstances.

Once they were both ready to go, he said, "Better go meet up with the team."

"Yea," she nodded, teasing, "we get to make a whole new generation of team members uncomfortable."

"What?" he asked.

"You know…how the team used to joke about the tension between us."

"Well…it's hard to tone down this much animal magnetism," he playfully boasted.

"Remember how they had that code?" Jane grinned.

"Yea…I remember that. I also remember _you_ tapping that code under the table on more than one occasion to get them to leave."

Jane giggled, "Well…maybe I wanted some alone time with you."

His eyes locked on hers, and he approached slowly, like he was about to kiss her. "We'll have a lot more alone time soon…you'll see," he reassured, but before they made contact, someone knocked on the door.

"Weller?" Agent Leonard called from outside.

"Come in," he bellowed as he grabbed his tattered backpack.

Leonard came in, politely nodding a hello at the two. "Sir," she explained, "Myers said the computer guy is here with the plane. Are you almost ready?"

"Yea. We're ready," Weller replied.

"What computer guy?" Jane asked.

"With both Patterson and Zapata MIA, I needed someone who knows how to work some technical magic."

They walked down the gravel road to the airplane that had come for them. As Jane climbed onboard, she saw that familiar fluffy and disheveled pile of black hair and smiled, "Rich?"

Jane was excited to see someone else she knew. Weller's new team seemed to regard her with genuine concern, approaching suspicion. But she knew Rich would be happy to see her, and probably provide some idiotic commentary that would offer relief from the general aura of apprehension and mistrust that she felt from the new team.

"You found her," Rich calmly observed.

Weller smacked a hand down on Rich's shoulder, a rough gesture that was meant to be appreciative. "Yup, your intel was good."

Rich looked her over for a second or two, and then went right back to work. After Weller stepped out to talk to the pilot, Jane paused, anticipating some of Rich's usual antics that had not been immediately forthcoming.

She waited for Rich to make another comment about his irritation at not being asked to serve as the officiant at their wedding. Or maybe he'd make an amusing yet salacious comment that she could sneer at while trying not to laugh. But still he said nothing, no stories about keeping Kurt company on lonely nights, or jokes about how Kurt actually preferred Rich in bed. Silence.

Silence wasn't Rich's MO, and Jane felt thoroughly confused at this change. Rich himself was the embodiment of the opposite of silence, somehow making noise even when he wasn't, and this was the first time she'd ever known him to withhold comment entirely.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," she chuckled as she sat down in the seat next to his, "but it's actually good to see you."

Rich didn't turn to speak to her, but his mouth opened to respond when Kurt returned and interrupted, "I heard you got something for me?"

"For you, Stubbles?" Rich responded, sounding like himself again, "I always have something."

Jane watched as Rich lifted his eyes suggestively, and Kurt, as he often did, simply ignored the innuendo. "Lay it on me, Sweetie," Weller flippantly responded, and from Rich's lack of surprise or excitement over the sarcastic term of endearment, she thought the two had probably become closer in her absence. Evidence that yet another thing had shifted while she'd been gone.

"I was checking out this photo," Rich explained, "and ran a search on the symbol right here."

Rich showed them an image that Jane hadn't even had the chance to explore yet. Kurt had taken a few pictures of the new tattoos that he thought might be helpful, but he promised her she wouldn't be subjected to scans like she had been when they'd first met. She knew how guilty he still felt that she had to go through all of that while frightened and alone.

"See, I think…" Rich started and then paused when he looked at Weller, "Wow. You know, you're looking a little rough over there. Even for you…"

"Got shot," Kurt abruptly answered, looking at the images on the laptop.

"Hmm. I'm trying to muster some semblance of concern, but given the fact that you've shot me before, I'm finding it difficult," Rich commented.

"The symbol, Rich?" Kurt redirected.

"Right," Rich stopped and pointed. "This is the logo for an artisan who designs safes, strongboxes, high end jewelry boxes with unconventional security, that kind of thing. I think he might be responsible for designing the 'Jane Doe' box you found when you were searching for Patty and friends."

"Nice work," Kurt answered. "And that's eight."

"Eight what?" Jane wondered.

"Eight times I've called her 'Patty' since she's disappeared. He's keeping tabs for her while she's gone so she can kick my ass when she returns," Rich explained.

Jane watched Kurt's gaze tighten. She pressed her hand against his back reassuringly, knowing that he was keeping tally because, in his own way, he was holding on to the belief that he'd find Patterson and the team alive and well. "We'll find them," she said.

"Would have been easier if we didn't have to find you first," Rich mumbled, flinching when Kurt _accidentally_ elbowed the back of his head.

Jane felt momentarily stunned. Rich was hardly the poster child for successful committed relationships, and she hadn't expected him of all people to be judgmental. Maybe she was incorrectly interpreting the cold shoulder he seemed to be giving her?

It dawned on her that although she seemed to be working things out with Kurt, she'd also left other people behind. She wondered how Allie would feel about her reappearance in Ava's life. And if _Rich_ was acting strangely since her return, how would the people closest to Weller react? Sarah had been hurt before when she'd found out Jane wasn't Taylor, but now Jane was also the woman who left her brother shortly after the wedding. And Patterson, Zapata and Reade…they'd probably be furious, and she wondered if it would actually be harder to get back in their good graces than it had been after she'd returned from the black site.

She hoped she'd have the chance to try to make amends.


	10. Chapter 10: Public Services

_A/N-I'm so very sorry for the delay. I don't have any great excuses except life is so crazy this summer. I have the next chapter about 1/2 written so I'll try to get back on track. Thanks so much to everyone who has helped to light a fire under me._

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Public Services**

 _The team rented a room at the back of one of their favorite hangouts for Kurt's bachelor party. Zapata, Patterson and Reade worked together to plan the party, but as they walked in with Kurt and a few other guests, none of them could remember ordering a stripper in a giant cake. Kurt looked at the team suspiciously and said, "That's really, umm, old school."_

" _Yea," Reade said, looking at the other members of the team for an explanation._

 _Both Patterson and Zapata shook their heads and denied any involvement. Then they all turned toward the cake suspiciously. "It's safe right? Unless we're currently chasing a Bond villain?" Zapata asked._

" _Or a complete idiot. No self-respecting badass would be hiding in that cake," Reade replied._

" _I don't know," Patterson added, thoughtfully, "feels kinda like a nod to the whole Trojan Horse idea. It's either clever or insanely stupid."_

" _Haven't you guys ever seen a giant cake before?" Rich asked as he was suddenly standing next to them, drinking some unfamiliar electric green cocktail from a martini glass._

" _So it's not a Bond villain. It's just an idiot," Zapata noted to her friends. Turning to Rich, she asked, "What are you doing here?"_

" _Making sure this party doesn't suck."_

" _What's in there?" Weller asked, worriedly._

" _You really need to get out more," Rich answered, shaking his head._

" _If there's someone in there, get them out of the cake," Kurt ordered._

 _Rich shook his head and innocently asked, "Someone in there? Why would someone be in a cake? You are really getting paranoid, my friend."_

" _The stripper," Kurt said, with growing irritation, "or who or whatever you have hidden in that cake."_

" _Stripper?" Rich shook his head and regarded Kurt judgmentally. "Does Jane know you frequent strippers? I'm surprised at you, Stubbles. I really thought you were more progressive. You know, the whole treat-women-as-equals-unobjectifying type. This is making me rethink everything I—"_

" _Cut the crap," Kurt ordered. "What is that?"_

 _Rich examined Kurt for injuries and then said, "You probably sustain a lot of head trauma as an FBI agent. Maybe it's all catching up to—" Kurt's scowl intensified until Rich paused. "Okay, okay," Rich continued, walking behind the cake and producing a knife. He cut a thin slice and pulled it out. "I'm not as trained in the observational arts as you are, but, to me…it looks like cake." He took a sloppy bite and added, "Wow…really good cake."_

" _Who invited you?"  
_

" _I'm not sure. I can't tell them apart. Everyone on your team looks the same to me," Rich said, nodding toward them.  
_

 _Kurt looked at Reade, Zapata and Patterson, momentarily assessing the very distinguishable physical differences between each team member, then decided not to let Rich drag him down that particular path. "Forget it. Have another drink."_

" _Thank you," Rich said. He held out a bite-sized piece of cake and waited for Weller to eat it from his fingers. "It's the least you can do after turning down my very generous offer."_

" _Which offer is that?" Kurt asked, pushing Rich's hand away from his face._

" _I still think I would be the perfect officiant for your wedding," Rich paused while Kurt scoffed. Once Kurt was done protesting, Rich continued, "After all…I was probably the first person to really see what a fantastic couple you two could be. I knew the second I met the two of you that there was something pretty heavy going on behind the scenes. Just try to tell me you didn't get some action after the Hamptons, thanks to me. Come on…I don't care what you told the lesbian marshal…this is me. You can be honest."_

" _I didn't," Kurt said before a long drink._

" _You didn't tell Marshal Law? Well, you're not as dumb as you look."_

" _I mean nothing happened between me and Jane that night."_

" _You're kidding? All of that chemistry and dancing and the adrenaline rush of almost dying and then capturing a high level criminal like me…and you couldn't seal that deal? I practically gift wrapped her for you."_

 _Kurt thought back to that night, to the devastating way it had ended, and shook his head, "Nothing happened."_

" _Wow…you must lack some serious game. I saw the way she looked at you. You could have—"_

" _Say what you want," Kurt interrupted, "but she's marrying me. If I traded one night of fun for a whole lot of nights, it seems like I made the right call."_

" _You may have a point there," Rich replied. "But I still was the one who really saw what was going on between you. I'm still not sure why in the hell you got distracted with that other one. I tried to tell you. I knew she wasn't right for you. I knew you and Jane—"_

" _Don't pretend you kept mentioning the chemistry between us like it was some sort of public service announcement. You were trying to manipulate us. All of us. Trying to throw us off balance. The only person you were trying to help was yourself."_

 _Rich gasped theatrically. "Well, it wouldn't have thrown you all off balance if there wasn't something there. The reason it worked is because I touched a nerve. Face it…I'm practically cupid. And the least you could do is say thanks…and let me perform the ceremony."_

" _Not a chance," Kurt said before walking over to a gesturing Reade._

* * *

 _Hours later, the party had broken up, and everyone was going home. Kurt saw Rich sitting in a corner, obviously irritating Zapata. "Come on," Kurt said, reaching under Rich's arm to lift him to his feet._

" _You're really strong, you know that, Stubbles?" Rich said, completely inebriated._

" _Time to go home."_

" _Sounds fun. Will Jane be joining us or is this a guy's night kinda thing. Either way—"_

" _You're going back to your safe house with your guards. I'm going home."_

" _Come on," Rich said. "You're no fun. They say you should try everything once."_

" _Do they?" Kurt dismissively replied._

" _They do. And you'll be married in, what…four days or something?"_

" _Something like that," Kurt answered, dragging Rich out toward the guards who waited outside._

" _So if you're interested in any, you know…new life experiences or experimentation…now's the time," Rich burped loudly._

" _Is this another public service announcement?"_

" _Maybe," Rich replied. "Because in four days, anyone besides Jane would be cheating."_

 _Kurt looked at Rich as he waved the guard over with the car. "It would already be cheating," Kurt answered._

 _Rich groaned disappointedly, but said, "Both of you. So committed. I'm not sure if I should be impressed or nauseated. Do you even need to get married?"_

" _Don't 'need' to," Kurt handed Rich off to one of the guards and added, "'Want' to. And she said yes, so why would I pass that up?"_

" _I want to have that," Rich sighed. Then he added loudly, "You really don't care if she's the last person you ever have sex with? You don't feel the need to have something different just one more time? I would take advantage of every last second of freedom…grab onto—"_

" _Wow," Kurt chuckled, sarcastically adding, "that's really…umm…sweet? Too bad Jane isn't here...if she heard all of this poetry you're spouting, she'd have to ask you to perform the ceremony."_

" _I know, right?!" Rich countered enthusiastically._

 _Kurt shook his head, laughing softly, "Good night, Rich."_

* * *

 _When he got home, Jane was still awake, standing in front of the open freezer, absently tapping one tiptoe on the floor while she scavenged for a snack. "Back already?" she asked._

" _Yea," Kurt replied, looking at her and the way she was backlit by the light from the appliance. He had given Jane an old tee shirt months earlier. It was so white and worn that it barely passed as a garment at all, but she loved it. Even though they both returned it to his drawer after each washing, she always dug it out, and was the only one who wore it. After all, it was long enough to reach down to her thighs and it provided enough cover in case she happened to walk in front of the large balcony window._

 _He loved it because he could see her body through it. Not only could he make out her silhouette, but he could see the shapes of some of her tattoos, her nipples, the apex of her thighs, and even her belly button against the sheer fabric._

" _I thought you'd be out later," she stated as she grabbed frozen peach slices from the freezer._

" _Well, the stripper had a fuller beard than I do. So I decided to call it a night."_

 _She stared, one side of her lip curled up with displeased confusion. He laughed as he saw her expression and explained, "Rich."_

 _Her look of confusion became deeper and a bit more dismayed. "You had to watch Rich strip? God. Was it some sort of funny gag, or was he trying to be…seductive?"_

 _Weller shook his head, grabbing his phone and quickly snapping a picture of the look on her face. As he showed her the picture, he added, "Don't worry. Rich kept his clothes on. It was fun. But he tried to take credit for the fact that we're together and convince me to let him perform the wedding."_

" _Still?" she asked, taking notice of the way Kurt's eyes were stalking her barely hidden form._

" _Yup."_

" _I don't think he deserves credit for the months of work we spent regaining each other's trust and just figuring out how to be in the same room together again. He wasn't much help then."_

" _Honestly, for all of his talk, I think he really wants something like what we have. He pretty much said that when he was leaving."_

" _How drunk was he?" Jane smirked._

" _Pretty damn drunk. But honest drunk. Can't blame him," Kurt said as he walked closer, stealing the last slice of peach from her fingers and quickly eating it. "We have a pretty good thing."_

 _His hands smoothed over her waist, feeling the softness of the cloth over the softness of her skin. Almost automatically, they began to kiss as the movement of his hands lifted the shirt slightly. As his thumbs slid simultaneously down both hips, and he confirmed she wasn't wearing anything beneath the shirt, he groaned appreciatively._

 _The goal had been to take her back to their room, but as patient as Jane could be at times, she could be equally impatient at others. He made it to the hall, steadying himself with a hand wrapped around part of the door frame after she stopped his forward progress. She pulled him in front of her, bracing her back against the wall and her hands on his shoulders before she hopped up and wrapped her long legs around his hips. "Here," she demanded._

 _He argued, not because he wanted to, but because he enjoyed her more insistent moments and the way she could so intensely want him. "Here?" His eyes glanced down the hall toward their room. "You can't wait ten seconds? I can see the bed from here."_

 _He couldn't help but grin as she reached between their bodies and refused his delay, and didn't bother responding to his questions._

" _Yea, here's fine," he confessed as the grin dropped from his face and his eyes became heavier with passion._

 _As he plunged into her, she hissed a relieved, "Yessss," and he tightened one arm around her and kept his other hand firmly gripping the door so he didn't crash them both into the ground. "I was thinking about you," she admitted, knowing that her readiness did not go unnoticed._

" _Yea?" he asked, kissing the line of her jaw to her neck as she dug her fingers into him._

" _The whole time you were gone."_

" _All the time," he replied._

" _What?"_

 _He lifted his head for a moment, finding her eyes. "I think about you all of the time. I can't stop." The confession was abrupt and honest, the type of thing muttered when defenses are dropped so thoroughly they effectively become non-existent._

 _He lowered his head again, breathing in the smell of her right at her neck, never noticing the momentary stunned look on her face because he was rapt with her._

* * *

Jane and Kurt followed the mystery box to its creator, and thought they'd finally found Roman. They followed the trail for days, but Roman consistently stayed one step ahead. It was becoming infuriating.

They sat on their hotel balcony, the third hotel in as many cities and as many days, and they were all ready to catch a break. Kurt sent his young team out into the field to follow up on a few leads, while he and Jane sat with Rich, who was busily tapping away with two laptops set up on the table in front of him.

Kurt and Jane were talking about various places their friends might be held, and Rich interrupted, "Face it. Roman doesn't have them."

"You found them?" Jane asked, hopefully.

"No. But I know he doesn't have them."

"How?" Kurt asked.

Rich looked over the laptops and calmly stated, "He's too mobile. He's been leading you guys on the whirlwind European tour for days. He can't possibly be moving your team from city to city so quickly and quietly. Moving three trained FBI agents wouldn't be easy, especially not on his own. It's too risky."

"Maybe he has help."

"Or maybe," Jane added, "they're all being held at a separate location, guarded by some of Roman's people."

"How many of Shepherd's people have we brought in?" Rich confidently asked.

"A lot," Kurt replied.

"Exactly. Particularly the upper level people…the ones Shepherd and Roman would trust. So if Roman managed to get his hands on three FBI agents, the ones they know you value most, do you really think he'd leave them with some low level operative he barely knows? It doesn't make sense. Besides, Roman seems like a very capable sidekick…not so much the brains of the operation. Whoever has the three amigos holds the cards. They're not going to risk losing their bargaining power by trusting some newbie while Roman plays cat-and-mouse with you two."

"Good point," Kurt said. "So if not Roman…who? Devon?"

"Well, from what I've seen, she's more of a henchman than a leader, too," Rich stated.

"She managed to track us down and shoot Kurt. And she had a whole team with her," Jane argued. "So maybe she's stepped up."

"Maybe," Kurt replied. "But why kidnap the team, set up this whole thing with the tattoos and the box and the mysteries to lure us in, if they just wanted to shoot me? They wanted more. Someone wanted me to bring you back."

"That's true," Jane nodded. "They obviously wanted both of us."

"They probably knew you wouldn't come back unless lives were in danger," Kurt suggested, his voice falling as some part of him acknowledged that he probably wouldn't have been able to convince her to return without some greater cause.

Rich replied. "If I were organizing this whole charade, I'd bring you in, get you exactly where I want you…then get what I want. Too many unknown factors out in the open."

"You've recovered more memories. Do you remember anyone else?" Kurt asked Jane. "Anyone in Shepherd's organization, someone higher up who might be capable of organizing something like this?"

"Shepherd was very controlling. She liked to be in charge and quickly stomped out dissent. She listened to me more than most, sometimes, but really she liked to make the decisions, do the planning. She didn't want thinkers, she wanted soldiers," Jane answered.

"Sounds right. So maybe you had something to do with it. Maybe you organized all this yourself. The box, the kidnappings," Rich said, looking stone-faced at her.

"You're joking?" Jane argued.

"Am I?"

"Why would I do that?"

"You tell me."

"Knock it off, Rich," Kurt firmly stated.

"Did you bother to ask about the new tattoos?" Rich questioned him. "Because, if you ask me, that's a pretty big hole in her _I-have-no-idea-what's-happening_ story."

"What about them?" Kurt asked.

"When did she get them? How did someone tattoo her without her noticing? It would take days just to tattoo her. Then a few more days to heal. She really didn't notice that? And if she was unconscious, she wasn't at all worried about missing a week of her life? That didn't seem a little weird? She didn't think it might be good to give her pals at the FBI a little heads up? Maybe mention it to her estranged Assistant Director husband? It doesn't add up."

Kurt looked at Jane, waiting patiently, but without any accusation. "Do you know when something like that could have happened? It might help us track down whoever did this to you."

Jane swallowed hard, obviously hesitant to share. "I have an idea."

"It's okay. Just tell me," Kurt said. "You want to talk in private?"

"No," she assured. "I was sick, for a little while."

"What?" Kurt worriedly said, taking her hand in his. "Is everything alright?"

"Yea. I think so. I wasn't feeling well, lost consciousness one day while I was hiking through the mountains. When I came to a few days later, I was with the monks, where you found me. They said someone found me and brought me there."

Kurt's face was worried and upset as he asked, "What happened? What made you pass out like that?"

"It's all so foggy. I don't really remember what was happening before. Maybe I was drugged."

"Did anyone take you to the hospital? Run tests? Something could be seriously wrong!"

"No. I've been fine since then. I felt sore for a few days…like I had a sunburn…but since I'd passed out, I figured my skin was sore from exposure to the elements."

"But you didn't…you didn't think maybe I deserved to know that? I would have come for you. Made sure you were okay," Kurt argued.

"I didn't want to worry you."

"You were unconscious for days. Anything could have happened to you," he said, his voice raising. He was clearly feeling sick at the thought of someone having unfettered access to his unconscious wife, his eyes searching for answers that weren't to be found in their surroundings. "I—I gotta take a walk," he finally said before he took long, decisive steps through the room and disappeared out the door.

After just a few seconds, Jane turned to follow him. Rich was already busily back to his screens, but he said, "You left for months. The least you can do is give him a few minutes to cool off."

"What is your problem?" she asked.

"My problem is that I don't trust you."

"How dare you accuse me of being involved in this," she countered. "I didn't just walk out on him. It's not that simple. It killed me to leave!"

"Cut the act," Rich argued. "It's just us criminals here. You can be honest."

"I am being honest, and I'm…I'm _not_ a criminal," she said, her face red with fury. "I was trying to protect him."

"Do you know what he was like when you left?" Rich asked. "If you cared about him, if you wanted to protect him, you wouldn't have disappeared like that."

"I can't believe you of all people is judging me right now."

"I'm a dick," Rich calmly said, "I'm an asshole and a jerk…but I don't pretend to be anything else. But I didn't get married either. I didn't promise someone forever and fidelity and all of that. You did. You made him trust you. You made me believe you. Then, you vanished. You left everyone else behind to watch him go through hell."

"I never wanted to cause him pain," she said, her eyes tearing heavily.

"Believe me…what you did hurt him way more than Shepherd or Roman or Bad-Guy-of-the-Week ever could. Did you know he was investigated?"

"For what?" she shook her head.

"Well, his wife disappeared without a trace. And the first suspect in any person's disappearance is their significant other. So when you disappeared on your honeymoon, the first person they looked at was him. After all, he's in law enforcement. He'd know how to dispose of a body. And the story he told sounded pretty crazy. They were convinced that he killed you. And then they investigated every other member of the team. Treated them all as suspects while they tried to stop him from throwing his life away to go find you."

"He didn't mention all of that."

"Of course he didn't. Because _he_ doesn't want to hurt _you_. And he's willing to do whatever it takes to protect your feelings. If you wanted to leave, you could have had the courage to say it to his face. You could have divorced him so he could move on. He was committed to you before you were even married. I thought, mistakenly, that you were just as committed to him."

"I didn't think I had any other choice. I wanted to protect him. He deserves better. And I'm…" Jane dropped down on the chair, leaning forward with her head in her hands and her elbows braced on her knees. "I don't even know what I am."

"Why didn't you call him when you passed out for days?"

"I thought about it. But then I was fine and—and…honestly, after leaving the way I did, I didn't want to call him just because I was sick and alone. And I thought…I thought I could never come back."

"So you wiggle your way back into his life, win his trust…and what happens the next time you freak out and decide you need to leave? If you're going to go as soon as he finds Patty and friends, you might as well leave now. I'll give you a burner phone so I can contact you if we need help. Don't string him along."

Jane felt her head throbbing, mirroring the pain in her gut. "I hate what I did," she whispered softly. Louder, speaking to Rich, she said, "I panicked. I made a mistake. I never should have left. Kurt seems like he can forgive me, but the guilt…the guilt is still killing me. I wish I could go back. I wish I could change everything. But I can't. And I know he deserves so much better, which makes me feel like I should leave. But if I did that, it would just hurt him all over again. I can't leave, Rich. I can't walk away again. And I'm finally regaining his trust. I will spend the rest of my life making up for what I did."

Rich watched her for a few moments, silently. "Okay," he said, shrugging and going back to his work, seeming to accept what she'd said.

"Okay? That's it?"

"You may not know this about me, but I am, at times, a bit of a button pusher. I needed to assess the situation. Figure out your intentions."

"You were messing with me?"

"Not exactly. If you're going to leave again, you should go. Our Furious Little Man can be stubborn and annoying and overly concerned with the rule of law…but he doesn't deserve to go through that again. I mean, it's a pretty sad state of affairs when I'm the guy who sticks around to offer moral support and clear his name. The team, they were all pretty pissed that you disappeared. They felt bad for him because he was a wreck. But they all considered you family. So you kind of ran out on them, too. I needed to know if you're really back."

"I'm back."

"You didn't do yourself any favors either," Rich noted. "For someone who was on a retreat, you look pretty rough."

"Thanks," she scowled.

"Come here," Rich said, standing up and opening his arms.

Jane glared suspiciously, but Rich looked sincere, so she stepped forward and accepted the hug.

"Welcome back," he said holding tightly onto her.

"Tha—" Jane began until she felt Rich's hands moving progressively lower down her back. She roughly pushed him away with a flat palm firmly driven into his chest.

"Ouch! What?" Rich defended, doing his best imitation of an innocent man. "I just wanted to make sure you are still completely committed to your husband. I'm looking out for him. It's all part of this new journey I'm on as a public servant."

"You're ridiculous," she countered before a loud commotion startled her and she whirled toward the door.

Kurt pushed Roman into the room. Roman's hands were out to the side in surrender, Kurt's gun aimed at his head. "You're back," Roman dryly said to his sister, without a flicker of emotion.


	11. Chapter 11: Justice

**Chapter 11: Justice  
**

"Where are they?" Kurt yelled, looking like he could quite possibly lose the last of his cool.

"First, point the gun somewhere else," Roman stated, still calm as could be. "I'm the one who came to you."

"Where are they?" Kurt demanded again.

Jane circled around Kurt, carefully placing her hand on his arm and pressing down until he lowered his gun.

"Thank you," Roman said. "I don't have your team. I had nothing to do with it."

"Then why have you been running from us?" Kurt questioned.

"Ten seconds ago you had a gun to my head. Do you really have to ask that?"

"Umm, hang on. Who's this? Hello," Rich said, taking a few steps forward with his hand outstretched. "Rich Dotcom…and you are?"

"Sit down," Kurt and Jane said in unison.

"Touchy subject?" Rich asked as he stopped moving closer.

"Roman—" Kurt began to explain.

"My brother," Jane interrupted before Kurt could give any other information.

"Your brother?" Rich asked with obvious interest. "God, your parents must have been some seriously nice looking individuals. Where have you been hiding this—"

"Do you know who has them?" Jane asked Roman, trying to return the conversation to their missing friends.

"I'm not sure. I've heard rumors. Look, I can't go back to that cell in the basement. Or any cell. I don't want to get black sited and tortured."

"It might help if you can provide us with the information we need," she suggested.

"I'm definitely having some déjà vu," Roman chuckled. "You suggested that before, and look how that turned out. I don't want to end up like Shepherd…Nas Kamal's prisoner in some hole somewhere."

"Nas wouldn't—" Jane began, then she paused, "Nas has Shepherd?"

Roman nodded slowly.

Jane cleared her throat, and decided to focus on finding the team. "Kurt was shot. We think it was Devon."

"Well, you murdered the father of her child. I can't say it's very surprising," Roman replied.

"Parker was involved in a massive terrorist attack," Jane argued. "He shot Zapata, too. He wasn't innocent in all of this."

"I was really hoping your memories would come back, and you'd remember who you _really_ are," Roman said, shaking his head with disapproval.

"I haven't forgotten who I am," Jane argued. "I'm a terrorist. A murderer. But I'm trying to pay for the things I've done."

Roman's eyes flickered, and he said, "After all this time…that's really how you see yourself?"

"It's the truth."

"You wanted _justice_ ," Roman argued. "That's what you've always wanted. You might not like our methods, but that was always your goal. A better world for all of those people who remain invisible. Real equality. Less corruption."

Jane was overwhelmed, like the weight of her deeds was too impossible to carry, and took out a wrinkled and folded up printout. "What about him?" she yelled at her brother, her sadness and frustration boiling over as she showed him a picture of the man she'd remembered killing when she was still Remi.

Roman looked at the paper and said, "What about him?"

"I killed him. Didn't I?"

"Yes."

"A father. A husband. Do you really think killing him made the world a better place?"

Roman chuckled and nodded, "Oh yea. Definitely."

"What does that mean?"

"He didn't deserve to live," Roman answered. "Don't you remember?"

Jane shook her head. "I remember his children crying."

"He was a dirty cop on Shepherd's payroll. She asked us to look into him. He was a drunk. Unreliable. You know she had no patience for that. He started acting strange, missing meetings, and she worried he was going to roll on us. You did some digging. Found out that his wife had a lot of unexplained _accidents_ , broken bones, head injuries. He was taking advantage of his own daughter. There were two other little girls in that house, and you said it was only a matter of time before he did the same thing to them. So yeah. You put him down."

"Are you sure he was guilty?"

Roman nodded. "Oh yea. He was terrified of you. Confessed to all of it once you had a gun to his head. But you knew it was true before he said a word. As far as I'm concerned, he didn't suffer enough."

"That doesn't fit. This symbol was tattooed on my body so I could pay for the things I've done. Atone."

" _That_ symbol was tattooed?" Roman asked.

"Apparently someone thought her original tattoos needed some enhancements," Rich commented.

Roman nodded slowly, his expression difficult to discern, although his eyes seemed to search his sister for the changes on her skin. "Are you sure that's what they mean?"

"I don't know what else they could mean."

"Here," Kurt said, dropping a pile of photos in front of Roman. "These are some of Jane's new tattoos. Any of these mean anything to you?"

Roman watched Kurt suspiciously, side-eying the man he clearly didn't trust, and then he picked up the pictures. "New tattoos?"

"It's complicated," Jane said. "Would you please just look at them?"

"I don't know any of these," Roman confessed, pushing a few to the side, "but I know this one. This is graffiti on one of the buildings involved in a human trafficking ring."

"You sure?" Weller questioned.

"Positive."

"Why would that be on me?" Jane asked.

"Well, probably because you killed the couple running the ring," Roman said, as if it were obvious. "And this one," he pointed at another new tattoo, "there was a nurse at this hospital who was involved with that same ring, using her connections at work to move kids, get medical supplies."

"Anyone else noticing a theme here?" Rich asked.

"You forget," Roman said to Jane, "that you've always wanted justice. You let the FBI brainwash you into thinking their idea of justice is the only way. But it's _not_ the only way. I was always Shepherd's favorite kid…we both knew that. But you…she trusted your judgment. Admired your commitment. She respected you. She never really treated you as a kid. Even when you were one."

"So why did mother-of-the-year decide to steal her beloved daughter's memories and cover her in puzzles?" Rich flippantly asked from his desk.

Roman scowled, "Shepherd didn't do that on her own. Remi was always ready to sacrifice herself. She loved the cause more than Shepherd, more than me, more than…more than anything or anyone. She was always willing to put it all on the line."

"That hasn't changed," Kurt said. "She's always the first to jump in, willing to risk her own life so no one else has to."

"So, if your brother wasn't involved, who new-too'ed her?" Rich asked, shattering the sobriety of the moment.

"I don't know where they came from," Jane explained to Roman and Rich. "I think I was drugged, abducted, tattooed and dropped off. I didn't agree to it this time."

"Someone who knew a lot about what we did before you became Jane Doe," Roman replied. "Someone who knew that things aren't black and white. We were standing up for people that the FBI and law enforcement didn't even notice," Roman said with some pride.

"Devon Penberthy?" Kurt asked. "Do you think she might be responsible for the tattoos?"

"I doubt it. She wasn't around when you took out this guy," Roman pointed at the picture of the man Jane had once felt so guilty for killing. "Someone who's been around for a long time."

"There aren't many of those people alive anymore," Jane said. "Roman, if you had anything to do with this…if you know anything that might help us find them…"

"I don't," Roman immediately stated. "But…how many were kidnapped?"

"Three people that we know of," Kurt answered.

"It would have to be a secure spot," Roman thought. "They'd want enough space to keep them apart. Some place where they wouldn't be heard, away from the public eye…"

"You have an idea?" Jane asked, hopefully.

"A few," Roman replied.

"Tell us," Kurt demanded. "Our friends don't deserve this."

"What's it worth to you?" Roman confidently asked.

Before Kurt lost his cool, Jane interjected, "What do you want?"

"Shepherd—"

"We will not release Shepherd," Kurt interrupted. "Even if I wanted to, I don't have that kind of authority."

"I don't mean release her. She needs daylight, better housing, better treatment," looking at Jane, Roman added, "imagine you care about her like you care about me…treat her like you'd treat me."

Jane nodded, "I'll do my best."

"I can't promise that," Kurt argued.

"Do you have any idea what would have happened to Jane if Shepherd wouldn't have taken us in as kids? Think about it for a moment…we were still young. There are a lot of unscrupulous people out there who would —"

"Enough," Kurt snapped.

"If Jane is so important to you, the least you could do is make sure the woman who was willing to take her in when no one else would can breathe fresh air once in a while."

After careful thought, Kurt said, "I'll do what I can. But I won't make a promise that I may not be able to keep. My power is limited."

Roman looked pleased by Kurt's honesty, then flipped over the printout Jane had given him earlier. "I can think of at least four places where they could be held."

He held out his hand for a pen, and Jane hurried to a nearby desk and rummaged through the drawer to find one. He quickly scrawled a few notes on the paper, then reached for his pocket. Kurt's reflexes demanded that he grab his gun, but all that Roman produced was a small remote, like one used for a garage door. "Lower your weapon," Roman threatened.

"Roman, please," Jane pleaded.

"He's the one with a gun on me," Roman replied.

Kurt scowled but lowered the gun, "What is that?"

"It could be nothing," Roman suggested. He studied the remote carefully before he added, "Or…it's the detonator for explosives in that courtyard full of people outside. I'm going to leave. If you try to stop me, you'll find out which it is."

"This is fun," Rich said. "My bet's on actual explosives but he's your brother, so—"

"Don't do this," Jane begged. "We might have a chance to start over and—"

"Don't do what?" Roman replied. "Seems like you and Weller are the ones in control. You decide what happens next." He held up the remote a little higher. "It's up to you. Weller, put your gun on the floor, and go stand behind Jane. Face the wall." Roman picked up the paper he'd written information on and added, "If you want to keep this list of locations, and make sure that everyone outside is safe, I suggest staying there until I'm gone. Don't come after me. We all know it's too late to start over now."

Kurt looked at Jane, the two trying to decide how to proceed, and Kurt answered, "Leave the list on the table and go. I won't follow you. Today." He placed his gun on the ground and complied with Roman's instructions.

Roman stood up and walked backward toward the door. Once he placed his hand on the knob, he looked at Jane and said, "I'm not sure why you let me go when you took down Shepherd. But thank you. I gave you that list, so I consider us even."

Jane felt the sting of heartbreak as her brother fled, wondering if the only reason he'd come was to repay a debt, or if he'd wanted to see her, too. She loved her brother no matter which memories came back or what either of them had done. The whole room became completely silent, and when it looked like Kurt was considering going after Roman, she gently took her husband's hand. It wasn't enough to stop him, if he really wanted to leave, but it was a plea for him to stay. "Do you think he knew about the tattoos?" Kurt asked quietly.

"I don't know," she answered. "I don't think so."

Kurt nodded and took a few careful steps, and she realized that his skirmish with Roman had aggravated his wounds. At least she hoped the cause of the heavy way he was walking was physical. "Your brother, hunh?" Rich asked as he pinched the longer hairs of his beard between his fingers. "He's really…you know…intense. Isn't he?"

No one answered as Jane was too busy watching Kurt and trying to figure out if he was alright.

"So…you guys let him go before? Both of you, or just Jane?" Rich asked, opportunistically hoping for dirt.

Kurt gruffly grabbed the list Roman had left and slapped it down on the desk next to Rich. "Check into these locations and tell me what you find."

"Not even going to ask nicel—," Rich stopped when he saw how irritated Kurt was.

"What?" Jane asked Kurt, following him out into the hall.

"Part of you, the part that really matters, was always good, Jane," Kurt countered loudly. "I told you…I know you, even when you don't know yourself. I wish you could…"

"Tell me," she softly asked.

"I wish you trusted your heart the way I do. I wish you could see what I see."

"Why are you so angry?"

"When we caught Shepherd, and you and I started dating, I thought…I thought the worst was behind us. I didn't expect every day to be a party, but…" Kurt sighed loudly, his anger receding a bit as he continued. "I thought we'd paid our dues. We fought and survived, helped people along the way…it seemed like maybe it was our time to enjoy life, just a little. And instead, we found more pain. More sadness."

"That's why I told you…I want us to get out. I'm tired of the fighting. The death. The violence, Kurt."

"I understand that, Jane, but do you really think you can stop fighting back when you see someone hurt? When you see injustice? It's not as simple as just walking away. Helping people in trouble is part of who you are…and sometimes that means we have to use whatever means necessary to stop the ones who are hurting them."

"I know," she answered with defeat. "But now you've been shot…again. I—I'm tired of seeing you in pain. Roman, too. His whole life has been violence. I'm tired of hurting people."

"Did you find peace up there…in Tibet?" he asked, his eyes sorrowful.

"Without you?" she asked. "No."

"I'm not sure how to—"

"I hate to be the _ruiner of moments_ or _blocker of cocks_ …" Rich said as he peered into the hallway, "but I think I have something."

They quickly followed Rich into the room, and he showed them a few shots of places he'd ruled out, and then showed them two locations where their friends might be held.

"That one, the abandoned chrome plating site," Jane said, pointing at the second option. "Completely secluded. Thick walls. Little traffic, so very few potential witnesses. That's the one."

"Can we get some eyes on that building?" Kurt asked.

"Legally or…?" Rich questioned.

"The less we know, the better," Jane responded.

"Got it. Don't-ask-don't-tell," Rich said as his fingers flew over the keyboard.

"Stick to the legal channels you were given by the FBI and CIA," Kurt stated. "Let's keep this investigation clean."

"Alright…there you go…" Rich offered.

Jane and Kurt studied it for a while, and then Kurt said, "That definitely looks like a patrol."

"Can you scan for heat signatures inside the building?" Jane asked.

"What would you guys do without me?" Rich wondered as he proudly shared his display.

Ignoring Rich, Jane said to Kurt, "I see seven people. Maybe eight?"

" _Oh thanks, Rich, you're amazing,"_ Rich commented, mimicking Jane's voice in the background while they ignored him.

"See, these four are staying relatively still," Kurt said only to Jane. "Could be enclosed in a smaller area. A closet or a makeshift cell."

"Or just someone sitting."

" _Rich, you're a genius,"_ Rich continued, speaking in the gruffer voice of a Kurt impression _. "Is there anything we can do to thank you?"_

"And these four people are moving. Almost pacing. More guards?" Jane asked.

"Looks like. This is definitely our best possibility." Turning to Rich, Kurt said, "Can you get the blueprints for this building and overlay them on this image."

"Oh, wait, am I here, too? I almost forgot," Rich pouted. He yanked the computer back in front of him and mumbled, "Of course I can."

In just a few moments, Rich showed the layout of the building over the satellite and heat imagery and said, "Anything else? Maybe something that's actually challenging?"

"That's them," Jane said with certainty, pointing at the screen. "Someone's being held there, in an old boiler room. There's another person over here, some sort of maintenance room, and someone here in the room marked 'utility.'"

"They're far apart. I know I'd separate them," Rich commented. "They probably can't even communicate."

"Do you think all three of them are there?" Jane questioned.

"Let's hope." Kurt replied. "Rich, call in the team and tell them we're leaving tonight. Jane, you're with me. We'll arrange transport and get ready to move out."

"Ah-hem," Rich cleared his throat. "Is this how you treated Patterson when she pretty much solved the case for you?"

"Case is far from solved. This is just a lead," Kurt said, his mood already boosted at the thought of making progress and finding their friends. It was obvious that he felt responsible for the kidnappings.

"We better get moving," Jane said, looking equally energized.

Kurt immediately made a call to arrange for their flight. "Oh," he said, moving the phone away from his face while he was on hold. Looking at Rich and patting him roughly on the shoulder, Kurt said, "Not bad."

"Not bad?" Rich asked, looking at Jane as Kurt left the room.

"Yea," she replied, following Kurt, "definitely not bad."

"What does it take to impress you two?" Rich asked the empty room.


	12. Chapter 12: Rescue

A/N-Okay everyone, we're nearing the end of this story. I think there are 2-3 chapters left. Thank you to all of the readers out there, and to the lovely

gypsyscarfwoman and Snapdragon83 who helped me proof the last few chapters and correct my many flubs!

* * *

 **Chapter 12: Rescue**

The more data they found on the old factory building, the more likely it seemed that their friends were being held there. Because the building was surrounded on all sides by miles of grassland somewhere in Iowa, there was little cover, so any approach would either have to be a large, decisive invasion on the building, or a careful, quiet infiltration with few agents.

During the flight back to the US with Rich and the team, Jane sat down across from Kurt. He'd been studying schematics and other data for hours. She was worried about him. He looked absolutely exhausted. He was supposed to be recovering from his gunshot wound and subsequent surgery (anyone else in his position would still be on bedrest), and on top of everything else, the preceding days had been mentally and emotionally taxing. His eyes lifted to hers, and he said, "What do you think?"

Glad to be considered a full member of the team, a member whose input was worth considering, Jane took the maps and started to review them. It made her remember how much she used to love working with Kurt. They'd always made one hell of a team, and as much as she'd been trying to convince him to leave this world behind, working with him certainly felt right. Clearing her throat, she returned her focus to the mission. "If we want to get everyone back alive…we go in quietly. If we storm in, if they even see us coming, they might start killing hostages, or they might just take the place off the map."

"Yea," Kurt nodded. "That's exactly what I was thinking. So three small teams?"

"One entering from the north…here?" she asked.

Kurt nodded, "And one near these loading docks."

"And one through the roof here? At this HVAC access panel?"

"Yea," Kurt smiled, "Not too rusty! Myers and Lemus can take a small team to the rooftop. Leonard can take a few agents and enter from the north. You and I will come from the loading dock."

"Once we're in, we can find out who's being held here," she pointed to the one potential cell. "That spot seems the least guarded, and if we can get to that person, we'll have more backup. And hopefully they'll know what we're up against."

"All three teams can meet up here, where the other prisoners are being held."

"And if we don't find our friends?" Jane worriedly asked.

"We try to find anything that might lead us to them."

"Maybe…you and I should split up and each—"

"No," he obstinately shook his head. "Absolutely not. From this entry point, we have the best shot at getting to the captives. We're the most experienced. And…I want you watching my back, and I want to watch yours. The other agents have plenty of training, and really good teams to back them up."

After all of their initial distrust, the distance between them seemed almost unnoticeable. He was there once again, like he used to be, protective of her, and trusting her to protect him. In one moment she felt hopeful about their future together, and in the next she wondered what would happen once the team was rescued, and the mission was complete. They'd been focused on their goal, how to save the team, and really hadn't figured out what would happen after that.

When their relationship had been new, they'd finish up a case with drinks at their apartment and a few days off. Her heart craved those days they'd spent together when the rest of the world disappeared. It was simply understood, without any discussion or planning. Even if they somehow rescued the team and got everyone out safe, Jane was uncertain of what their future would bring.

* * *

Although they tried, halfheartedly, to rest before landing, Jane and Kurt spent most of their time researching, planning and stretching their bodies and minds to prepare for this confrontation. From the moment he'd seen her in her tent, everything had been leading to this.

Less than twenty-four hours later, the rescue teams were on the ground, preparing to invade the abandoned building. The teams each had a substantial hike, and they all approached from different directions. The coordinated extraction mission was all going according to plan until they neared the building and their comms went dead.

Jane looked at Kurt as she tapped her earpiece, then whispered, "I lost comms. You?"

He nodded and added, "Looks like we've got the right place."

Kurt and Jane approached the loading dock stealthily. They did not see any guards. Carefully and as quietly as possible, they removed a plate and climbed under the loading dock to get access to the main building. He removed another panel once they were inside, which they believed would bring them close to the first prisoner. He unscrewed the panel but before he removed it to climb through, Jane said, "Hey Kurt?"

He looked at her, expecting advice or comments about their plan.

"Don't die," she said, with complete sincerity but a gentle smile to boot.

"You too," he answered, immediately.

Both of them knew how dangerous the next few minutes would be.

Jane and Kurt didn't see a single guard, or anyone, for that matter, once they were in the halls. The cement walls were crumbling slightly, pebbles lining the path. The fluorescent lights hung from high ceilings, some fully lit, but many only offering the occasional flicker. The air smelled stale and damp, but the most alarming thing was the almost complete silence.

As planned, the pair went directly to the room where they'd hoped one of their friends was being held. There was a heavy crossbar blocking the door to prevent it from opening, but as far as they could tell, there wasn't a lock.

Kurt checked for trigger wires or anything that might cause an alarm or detonation should the crossbar be lifted. After all, the absence of a lock made it seem a little too easy. But when they felt certain it was safe, Jane and Weller eased the heavy crossbar up to release the door, moving carefully to avoid making a sound as they kept their eyes out for any signs of trouble. Kurt cracked the door and peered through, and saw Patterson in the back corner on a standard prison-issue bed.

Patterson was sitting with her legs pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around them. Upon initial inspection, she didn't appear to have any physical injuries.

As they came through the door, Patterson lifted her head, all at once excited and confused. Every time her face began to look jubilant, she held back, finally asking, "Are you guys real?"

Jane wasted no time, helping her stand, "Can you walk?"

"Yea," Patterson replied, quickly hugging Jane while Kurt kept his gun pointed at the door. "Wait, you're back? I thought you left, Kurt wasn't sure if he'd ever find—"

"We'll catch up later," Jane said with a gentle smile, retrieving her backup handgun from her belt and offering it to Patterson. "First, let's get you out of here. Have you seen anyone else?"

"I haven't seen anyone, but I think Tasha's here. I heard her signaling. Through the pipes. But it's hard to tell. You start hearing things in here."

"We better move," Kurt said, eager to meet up with the other teams at the rendezvous point to find the rest of their friends.

Each unit brought one extra tactical vest in the hopes of finding someone, and Kurt handed theirs to Patterson, who quickly put it on and nodded her readiness. They all marched quickly but quietly down the halls to the next room, still without seeing any evidence of guards or anyone else. Every instinct was telling them that they should be prepared for whatever was to come, but none of them were going to leave without Reade and Zapata, if they were there.

They found Myers at the end of the hall with Reade, and the combined teams continued on to find Tasha. Kurt and Jane led the group forward.

They opened the next door where a prisoner might be held, Kurt and Jane entering first to look for signs of Zapata. They saw her tied in the corner with her hands bound above her head. Although she couldn't move much, she frantically shook her head and directed them to the other corner with her eyes. The sounds of a scuffle behind them drew their attention, and they all whirled around as the door slammed shut. Before it had closed, someone had entered the room, dragging Patterson along. The moment that person spoke, Patterson leaned back against the wall, getting as far away from him as she could. She whispered, "No," several times before she closed her eyes and shook her head fiercely. "You're not here. You're dead."

The other voice said, calmly, "Step over there," the tone reassuring, smooth and familiar.

Patterson stumbled toward her friends, and she stood bravely in front of them. "If you want me, fine. Let them go," she offered as her jaw quivered with sadness.

Jane stared hard at this latest enemy, recognizing the voice but not the figure in front of them. He only took a few steps, but they were clearly painful and difficult. He was frail. His skin was scarred and features twisted from fire or some other intense heat. "I'm not here for you," he told Patterson as he turned his focus to Jane.

A flash of memories rushed to her mind, and Jane knew who it was. "Borden," she coldly stated.

"Thornton, actually," he offered, that sweet voice still unchanged, although his gentle handsome features were all gone. Without the voice, he would have been unrecognizable.

Patterson lifted the gun they'd given her and shouted, "Get down on the floor. Hands above your head."

"I'm not going to do that," he answered without the slightest hint of fear. "I just want to talk."

"About what?" she yelled.

"Let's all calm down, shall we?" he asked. "Your friends outside this door are surrounded. If anything happens to me, they're all dead."

"There is nothing for us to talk about," Patterson countered.

He took several labored, painful steps; his last altercation with Patterson had obviously caused a great deal of damage, but somehow he'd survived. "But I don't want to talk to you. I want to talk to Remi."

"I'm not Remi," Jane quickly answered.

"You can call yourself whatever you'd like. But you and I…we share a past. We worked together to try to bring justice—"

"Revenge and justice aren't the same thing," Jane interrupted.

"So who decides what justice is?" Thornton asked. "Hmm? The US Military who experimented on their soldiers? Reade out there…the one with a somewhat interesting connection to a dead football coach? What about Zapata…do you know she was working with your old friend Tom Carter for a while, spying on you while pretending to be your friend? And Weller here…he's a good man, right? Follows the rules, by the book…do you have any idea how many people he's killed during his tenure with the FBI?"

"Following orders. In the line of duty," Jane replied.

"But whose orders? Who makes those rules? Who decides that Shepherd's orders were less valid than the FBIs?"

"You sent Roman. Didn't you?" Jane asked.

"When did you see Roman?" Thornton questioned.

His momentary confusion gave Jane hope that Roman wasn't a part of this, although the things Thornton had said mirrored her brother's suggestions.

"We follow the law," Kurt stated.

"Well, many things have been laws. Many atrocities, ethnic cleansing, genocide…typically are sanctioned by the ruling government, well within the law. Apartheid was officially adopted policy…look what happened to your parents, Jane. Was it right that they were killed for opposing it?" Thornton argued. "Weller, if you were so ordered, would you have killed her parents for dissenting with the government?"

"I also have a conscience," Kurt argued. "I have a moral code. And yes, I believe in following the law, but I also need to do what I believe is right. Those who I've killed, well I carry that weight, every day."

"And what if the orders you receive are in contradiction to your moral code?" Thornton asked.

"Then I would step down from this job," Weller firmly answered.

"What about you…Jane, Remi, Alice…whatever you want to be called. Can you let these atrocities continue?"

"We try to stop them. We stopped Phase 2. Saved the lives of thousands of innocents. Probably more," Jane answered.

"What about the people who still need help? The people your government is hurting? Who's going to stop them?"

"What's your point? What is it you want, Thornton?" Jane asked.

"We know you ran from your life with the FBI. Perhaps you realized they aren't always the good guys. We want you to come back. Shepherd is locked up. Roman is…struggling. We need a leader. If you feel you can make a difference in this world, if you know what is right and what is wrong, come back and lead us. There are hundreds out there, just waiting to take orders from someone they trust. We need a strong leader. If you don't like our methods, fine, change them. Come with me. See the evidence we have against governments all over the world. People in power, heads of corporations. When you see it, you'll know… _something_ has to be done. And you're the person to do it."

"Jane?" Kurt asked, waiting for her response to the offer.

"Did you figure out all of the tattoos?" Thornton asked.

"Some of them," Jane answered.

"Every single one of them is a success story. Things _you_ did, while with Shepherd, while with us, that ended suffering, or injustice or corruption. Did you look at the corporation that caused millions of birth defects by dumping into local waters? Or the human traff—"

"We both agree those people should be stopped," Jane interrupted Thornton. "You think we want the same things. Maybe, in some cases, that's true. I would want to stop a corporation from dumping illegal chemicals, and end human trafficking. Of course I would. The people who do those things need to be stopped."

"Good. Then come with me. Weller, you're welcome to join us, if you wish. If you feel so strongly about justice, maybe you should see the same evidence we're going to show Jane. Shepherd always thought you were capable of so much more."

"You know the difference between us and organizations like yours?" Jane asked.

"We're far more effective," Thornton argued. "We don't have to wait for warrants and judges. We're decisive."

"The difference," Jane added, "is that we aren't willing to employ any means necessary. The ends do not always justify the means. We won't allow thousands of people to be murdered to prove a point. We won't even allow dozens…we try with everything we have to make sure there isn't a single innocent casualty every single time we're in the field. And yes, we fail sometimes. And we always carry that guilt with us. And the next time, we remember those failures, and we try even harder to make sure no one gets hurt."

"Perhaps you'd like to see the file we have on Kurt?" Thornton threatened. "Then you can see who he really is."

Kurt turned to Jane and said, sincerely, "You can look at it. You probably already know everything in there. And anything you don't know, I would tell you."

"I want all of the information you have," Jane said. "Give me every piece of evidence you've collected."

Thornton smiled as best as his disfigured face could, and then said, "If you come with me, the rest of your people are free to walk away."

"I'm not coming with you," she shook her head. "I want you to gather all of your intel and turn it over. We'll take it back to the FBI and start putting together cases so we can end the corruption _legally_. You have my word that I'll do my best to make sure every single instance is reviewed."

"Your talents are being wasted. You shouldn't be taking orders from the FBI. You're a leader. Our people have the anger and the willpower, but they need direction," Thornton argued. "If you could just see what we see—"

"There's another way," Jane said. "I saw what Shepherd did…the pain and death she caused just to get to Phase 2. I can't let things like that happen. Not ever. I have been part of the problem, in the past. I still care just as much about everyone who's suffering. But I can't hurt more people in order to fix that."

Thornton started to laugh, and Jane was confused by his reaction until he said, "Really, Patterson?"

Kurt and Jane turned and saw Patterson's gun lifted. "You can't take them away from me, too!" she affirmed. "It wasn't enough that you used me, tricked me into letting you into my world, and into my bed, and into my heart. Now you want to stand there and pretend that you were trying to fight injustice? You want us to think you're the good guy in all of this?" She was shaking as she aimed the gun.

"See, even Patterson sees the advantages of taking action over the snail's pace of the American legal system," Thornton calmly stated.

"Patterson, please," Jane said. "Lower the gun."

"How is it so easy for them?" Patterson asked, teary-eyed. "How can they just take a life because they feel it's worth it?"

"I don't know," Jane answered. "But it wouldn't be easy for you. And you know that. Please. Lower the gun. You don't want to do this."

There was an explosion that sounded like it came from the other end of the building, and then another flurry of activity from directly outside the door that got their attention, and when the door opened, Reade stepped inside, honing his gun on Thornton as he took a moment to figure out who the man was. The other new agents were outside, and all seemed to be okay, keeping Thornton's henchman lined against the wall. Patterson tucked her gun in the back of her pants and hurried over to Zapata to free her from her restraints.

"What the hell was that?" Kurt asked.

"I thought you guys could use some help," Rich's familiar voice said as he peeked in the room. Looking at Thornton, Rich said, "Woah…what happened to him?"

"You were supposed to stay with the van," Kurt barked.

"Well your comms went down, so the backup team went in. And I tagged along. I assumed you needed me," Rich said. "Come on, Stubbles, just admit it…I'm part of the team."

"Anyone hurt?" Jane asked.

"The explosion was in an abandoned part of the building, near the back. I checked for heat signatures before I set it off. Just a diversion," Rich said, holding up a garage remote like the one he'd seen Roman with the day before. "I suppose I was inspired by that lovely brother of yours."

Patterson's eyes returned to Thornton and remained fixed, a fact of which both Kurt and Jane were acutely aware. Kurt hurried over to Thornton, spinning around the man who clearly had difficulties moving. Kurt quickly cuffed Thornton's wrists and ankles, likely sensing Patterson's apprehension that the man would somehow get away yet again.

Kurt turned to Reade and Zapata, "You both alright?"

"Yea," Reade answered. "Feeling a hell of a lot better now."

"Good to see you guys." Zapata added, smirking, "Took you long enough."

Kurt instructed, "Then get this guy outta here. I want you both on him at all times. Take him to the loading dock and transport will be by to get him. The rest of you, restrain everyone else, keep them here until Thornton's secure."

* * *

Kurt called for backup, hoping Patterson would feel better once Thornton was in custody, but when he turned around, he just saw her sobbing uncontrollably in Jane's arms. Jane comforted her, whispering reassurances that only Patterson could hear.

"I have to go with them," Patterson said, going to the hall to accompany Reade and Zapata while they took Thornton from the building.

After almost everyone was gone, Myers approached, "Special Agent Weller, we found this." It was a small box addressed to Jane. "The bomb squad thinks it's safe," Myers said as she handed the box to Weller and hurried out to continue searching the building.

Jane carefully opened it, just in case there was some trap inside. She pulled out an external hard drive marked with Kurt's name. Kurt put his hand on her shoulder and said, "I'll have Rich set that up for you."

"What?" Jane shook her head with surprise as she turned to face him.

"Rich will give you a computer so you can see what's on there."

"You don't have to do that."

"I don't want secrets between us. You check it out. If you have any questions about what you find, I'll be happy to answer them. My whole team scrutinized your past. Only seems fair."

"I don't need to see it…I already know exactly who you are," she replied firmly. "You're willing to overlook everything I've done in the past. We may have been shaped by our pasts, but you and I…we're the future."

"I need to stop in Colorado before going home. And then, well, now that we've found our friends…" Kurt began, narrowing the space between them, his eyes glancing away from hers worriedly.

"Yes?" she asked.

"I was just wondering what that means…for us."

"For us?" she smiled invitingly.

"Yea. I mean…what's next? Are you coming home with me?" he asked, feeling like her answer could be the difference between happiness and devastation.

"Are you inviting me?"

"That would be weird…inviting you to your own home."

She smiled immediately, " _My_ home?"

"It's still your home, Jane. Our home. And I hope to hell you're coming back with me. From there, we can figure out what we want to do next. Together."

"Hmm," she said, with a playful grin, and he knew from that moment on that she was coming with him. He resisted the urge to fling her over his shoulder and run the thousand miles that separated them from their apartment. She reached out and took his fingers in her hand and added, "I'd like that. I'm ready to go home."

"I've been dying to hear you say that," he said, looking around to be sure he didn't see anyone watching. He slipped an arm around her waist, his firearm still in his left hand.

She added enticingly, "You're going to need to take at least two weeks off."

"That's a long time."

"You need to rest up. Let your body heal. Spend a _lot_ of time in bed."

He groaned, feigning displeasure, "I guess I could…if I absolutely _have_ to."

She frowned until he laughed, pulling her more tightly against him. Her frown broke and turned to full grin, and the adoration in her eyes shot right through him. She impatiently grabbed the back of his neck, bringing his mouth down to hers and kissing him with such unconcealed desire that he almost forgot they were still standing in the middle of an abandoned factory. Of course their vests and firearms made closeness difficult.

He hated the feeling of separating, but did so, knowing that they'd eventually have to if there was any hope of going home.

"So I set up the diversion that saved your asses, but he gets the kiss?" Rich nagged from the doorway. "That seems really unfair."

They both turned to glower threateningly at the interrupter.

"God, it is seriously good to see you two kids back together, scowling as one again," Rich replied.

Kurt turned toward the door, sticking out his elbow to offer Jane his arm. She threaded her hand through and whispered, "You ready to get out of here?"

As they walked past Rich, he asked, "Time for a celebration, right? Party at your place for me and the whole gang tomorrow night? I could—"

Jane stopped directly in front of him and shook her head, "No, Rich. Not. A. Chance."

"You want a night or two to settle in. I get it," Rich continued.

"More like two or three weeks," Kurt answered, raising his eyebrow at his wife and nodding toward the door as they continued their walk away.

Responding to Kurt's suggestive expression, she shouted back to Rich over her shoulder, "Better make it a month."


	13. Chapter 13: Lucky

**Chapter 13: Lucky**

Jane felt the uncomfortable sensation of rising tension as they drove up to Allie and Conor's house. Every single time they came here, Jane felt immense gratitude that Ava's life was so different from her own childhood. The trio lived in the Colorado hills, almost a completely different world from Kurt and Jane's apartment in the city, and a different universe from the orphanages young Alice had known. It always made Jane access the flashes of memory she recalled, her childhood in the orphanage, her training, and she was endlessly pleased that Ava knew nothing of a life like that. And her four devoted parents would do absolutely anything to keep it that way.

Perhaps noticing her tension, Kurt reached over and took her hand as he drove up the long driveway. She could see how excited he looked at the prospect of seeing his daughter again. "You okay?" he asked as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Yea, of course. Why?"

He shrugged, accepting the answer for the time being but obviously doubting the truth of it. Honestly, she was a little worried about this visit. Jane certainly didn't fear a dramatic altercation with Allie, but she wasn't sure what sort of welcome she'd receive. The four adults had all worked together, bound by the mutual goal of ensuring the welfare of one child, and, for the most part, they all got along. Allie and Jane had become friends, in a way. But Allie was a fiercely protective mother, and she had always said Kurt was 'the best friend and co-parent a girl could have,' so Jane anticipated some unpleasantness. Jane knew perfectly well that her disappearing act hadn't done anything to _improve_ her relationship with Allie.

Kurt went in first as Jane waited on the other side of the door to surprise the girl. Jane giggled silently as she heard the child squeal with delight when she saw her father, and her little feet could be heard dancing on the wood floors in the foyer. Jane then heard Kurt through the door, saying, "I brought a surprise for you."

"What?" the girl excitedly asked with the poorly formed speech of a two year-old.

"Go look," he answered.

The door opened slowly and Jane saw one bright blue eye peer through the opening, and then heard the most honest, exuberant gasp she'd ever heard, like the girl was actually trying to inhale every molecule of air in the space.

The door flung open so abruptly that Kurt laughed as Ava flung her little body against Jane. "May!" she yelled. Jane pulled the girl higher into her arms for a proper hug, smiling as she heard the nickname again. They'd all guessed it was some combination of the words "Mama" and "Jane," and since the child came up with it, Jane had always accepted the title. Jane swayed as she held the girl, relishing the feeling of the sincerity and honesty of a child's hug.

"I missed you," Jane said when the girl finally pulled back to look at her, little hands holding Jane's cheeks.

Jane set her down on the ground when the long embrace ended, and Ava said, "Comin'? Or you hafta go?"

"I don't have to go, Bean," Jane answered, a nickname she'd given the girl that was short for "jumping bean," since the child was not adept at sitting still.

Ava dragged Jane into the house by the hand, and then when she saw her father again, seemed to be excited to see him all over again. So she grabbed his fingers and pulled him along, too.

The rest of the morning and early afternoon were wonderfully ordinary. The family, a bit unconventional although certainly more normal than anything Jane had grown up with, all shared lunch at a large kitchen table, exchanging stories and catching up. Allie wasn't quite as easygoing as usual, but she wasn't hostile either. After lunch, Allie looked at Kurt and said, "I know you want to, so go ahead."

He grinned, tossing his daughter up on his shoulder as he said, "Nap time, kid," and taking her back to her room. Kurt didn't often get to enjoy moments like this, so when he was around, he always took Ava back for a story before nap or bedtime. Jane chuckled at the intense joy shared by father and daughter as the pair disappeared down the hall. Then she heard Conor say, "I need to run to the office for just a little while this afternoon, but I'll be back soon."

A moment later, Conor was gone, Kurt and Ava were sharing a story, and Jane and Allie were left in the ample kitchen all alone. Allie stood and braced her back with her hand. Kurt had told Jane that Allie was pregnant with her second child, but with everything going on, Jane had sort of forgotten that detail. "So congratulations! You look beautiful…glowing," Jane blurted out.

"I look tired," Allie corrected shortly as she took empty plates to the dishwasher.

"I can get that," Jane offered. "Sit down. When are you due?"

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of this family without _your_ help," Allie countered, her true frustration showing for the first time.

Jane sighed deeply. Allie had been polite during the visit so far, and Jane knew without a doubt that it had been for the benefit of Ava. "Go ahead," Jane offered. "Say whatever you need to say."

"I have _nothing_ to say," Allie said, unconvincingly. Then she threw a dishtowel into the sink and said, "How could you do that?"

"My past…some of the people in it…are very dangerous. I didn't want anyone to get hurt," Jane answered adamantly.

"Well they did. You abandoned that little girl. She _loves_ you."

"I love her, too."

"Yea? Because you broke her heart. And you broke Kurt's heart. And then you broke Kurt's heart again every single time Ava told him she missed you."

"I am sorry," Jane genuinely answered.

"This hasn't always been easy for me," Allie said, looking near tears. "It hasn't been easy for any of us. We've all worked really hard to try to be a family. I have _tried_ to make you feel welcome, to make you part of Ava's life, as a parent."

"I know, Allie. I appreciate that."

"But you have to hold up your end. Parents. Can't. Leave. Do you understand that?"

"I was trying to protect Ava. And Kurt. All of you."

"No," Allie shook her head. "That answer doesn't fly. If something was wrong, why didn't you talk to us? This family has some pretty serious connections. And… … you know what, none of that matters unless you want this. So just tell me straight. Do you want this, or not?"

"What?"

"Is this the life you want? Do you want to be Ava's step-mom? Kurt's wife? Part of this family? Because if you do, Ava expects you to be there. And soon Ava's going to have a little sister. And you'll be part of her life, too, because she's part of this family. Do you get what I'm trying to say? If you don't want that…then you should just go now. Take your stuff and leave. This time, please have the simple courtesy of divorcing the man so he doesn't have to spend every minute wondering if you're coming back. And he won't divorce you. He's proven that. Move on and get it over with. I'll look out for them."

Jane nodded. "I love being part of this family. I am back."

"To stay?" Allie confirmed, with all of the seriousness she had.

Jane nodded. "I promise."

"If you _really_ want to protect this family…stay and protect them," Allie said, her expression finally softening. "No matter what your intentions were, leaving just caused everyone a world of worry and hurt."

"I didn't want to hurt anyone."

"I believe you," Allie said, a very subtle smile finding her lips. "These kids, they need us. All of us. To be honest…I sleep better at night knowing that if something happens to me…these girls will still have a mama who will love them and help take care of them. Do you get me?"

"Yea."

"I thought _Kurt_ was infuriating. God, woman!" Allie sadly chuckled. "That man… I don't want to watch him spend his life alone. And without you that's exactly what's going to happen. I think you knew that before you married him."

"I—I'm really glad to be back. It's good to see all of you. I missed all of you so much."

Allie looked at her, her frustration and worry ebbing, then flinched slightly.

"Are you okay?" Jane asked, stepping closer.

"This one's training day and night. I swear I'm bruising from the inside out," Allie said, looking down at her belly.

"You feel her moving?" Jane asked, a little excitedly.

"Constantly," Allie answered dryly. "Check it out," she said, gesturing for Jane's hand.

Allie moved Jane's hand to the right spot on her belly. Jane's eyes widened at the sensation and she marveled, "Wow. She has a lot of energy."

"It was really exciting before she decided to start beating the hell out of me."

Allie studied Jane's enthusiastic response to feeling the baby move, so Jane self-consciously withdrew her hand.

Allie continued, "So are you guys gonna add a few kids to the pile?"

Jane shrugged and looked away. She wasn't really ready to talk about it with Kurt, so she definitely wasn't prepared to talk about it with Allie. "I already feel lucky to have Ava," Jane finally replied. "And if you're willing to let me be part of the new baby's life, too, that's even better."

"So you're gonna let me carry all of the kids…get fat and covered in stretch marks while you sit there all skinny with your flat little stomach?" Allie asked, chuckling, but her voice had that extra bit of twang that it sometimes did when she was irritated.

"You look—"

"Don't say it," Allie said, shaking her head. Patting Jane's arm reassuringly, she added, "I was teasing you. And it's none of my business anyway."

Jane wasn't sure how to respond, so she watched Allie walk over to a corkboard that hung on the wall while she pressed a fist against her lower back to knead a muscle.

"Dammit," Allie griped, pointing at the board. "I honestly think these kids steal brain cells directly from their mothers to get smarter."

"What is it?"

"I forgot to grab diapers. It's no big deal, I'll run out later. Ava only needs them overnight anyway."

"I can do it," Jane eagerly responded, wanting a few moments of solitude after the conversation.

"You sure?"

"Definitely," Jane answered, taking Kurt's keys from the counter. "Where do I go?"

* * *

Jane enjoyed the momentary privacy, considering everything that had happened. As tense as the discussion had been, Allie really did consider Jane to be part of the family, and, in an odd way, that was reassuring and heartwarming.

Jane took the ten-minute drive to a nearby store, grabbing the exact diapers that Allie had written down on a scrap of paper. Jane certainly wasn't in a hurry, taking a leisurely walk through the aisles before she paid for her things and began the drive back. She had to admit, this was a beautiful area to live in, and it seemed like the perfect place to raise a family.

When she saw a truck from the electric company at the end of Allie's long driveway, Jane wondered why it was there. Even if the power had gone out while she'd been gone, she doubted the company could have responded so quickly. She silently admonished herself for being paranoid, but something just didn't feel right to her.

So she continued past the driveway entrance, pulling over down the road in a wooded area. She left the car and hiked through the woods, running up to the back of the house as quickly as she could. The home looked normal from afar, except for one small detail: all of the outdoor lights were lit. The whole perimeter of the house had large floodlights for security or nighttime gatherings, and Jane knew for certain they weren't on when she'd left. They were easy to turn on with a single switch in the kitchen. They also wouldn't be lit if the electricity had been out.

She took a deep breath, hoping this was completely unwarranted concern, and that once she got inside, everyone would laugh about the misunderstanding, and she'd remember that she wasn't on a mission, she was having a typical day with family. As much as she hoped that was the case, she couldn't deny the uneasy feeling that climbed up her spine. For now, it was best to assume the worst and hope for the best.

From the woods, Jane looked down the driveway and saw the electric company's truck still parked at the end, one person standing on the built-in lift on top, pretending to work on the wires while they were probably watching the house. If she went straight for the front door, she'd be seen. Instead Jane stayed under the cover of the woods until she found a spot that was out of the direct line of sight of the truck, and carefully worked her way to the back of the house. She didn't have a gun, so she would have to rely on whatever she could find along the way. She knew Allie's firearms were kept locked in the safe, and Jane didn't know the combination.

Once she was against the house, Jane looked for the best way in and saw the curtains fluttering just inside a window on the second floor. She hoped to hell that window was open. She climbed up the stone, grateful that she had become such an incredibly adept climber, because the surface didn't have a lot of good climbing holds. The window was open just a crack, and she could lift it and climb in without breaking the glass and making unnecessary noise. She wasn't even completely inside when she heard an angry voice coming from downstairs.

She went directly to Ava's room to see if the girl was safe. The child was barely awake and quite disoriented. "Who's yellin'?" her small, sleepy voice asked.

Jane put her finger to her mouth and hushed the girl. Whispering as softly as she could, Jane said, "We have to be quiet. We're playing a special game of hide-and-seek."

Ava seemed suspicious when she heard an angry voice downstairs, but looked at Jane's reassuring expression and relaxed. "Who's that?"

"Just the TV, Bean," Jane lied, hoping the girl wouldn't be too scared.

Jane picked up the child, grabbing her favorite blanket and plush toy before carrying her to the next room. There was a bathroom off the office, a bit removed from the girl's bedroom, and Jane hurried in there. She opened the closet and pulled out bulk packs of paper towels and toilet paper, and then directed the girl into the spot behind where the supplies had been. Jane hurried into the office and grabbed a tablet and headphones she'd seen on the desk. Jane made the little girl comfortable in the spot, gave her the toy to hold and found a playlist on the tablet. "Now you stay here…If you win, I'll get you a special prize. So don't come out no matter what. Wait right here until your Daddy comes to find you. Promise?" Jane asked.

Ava nodded, and Jane took the headphones and put them over the girl's ears.

Jane looked at her, uncertain whether or not the child would actually listen. She was still so young and impatient, and although she was a pretty smart kid, getting a two-year old to follow directions wasn't exactly an easy task. The last thing Jane wanted was to let Ava fall in harm's way.

Pulling the headphones away for a minute, Jane added, "You're a big girl, so I can trust you. Promise you'll stay right here?"

Ava nodded and said, "Yup."

Jane stacked some of the paper towels in front of the girl for additional cover. Just as she was rethinking her plan, considering carrying Ava out through the back, she heard a gunshot downstairs, and knew she didn't have time to get Ava out of the house safely. She closed the door as quietly as she could, and blocked the door. She hoped Ava didn't try to come out. She texted Conor as quickly as her fingers would allow, telling him the pertinent bits of information to share with the cops and Ava's location before she went down to help.

As she went downstairs, she was relieved to hear Kurt's voice, although she couldn't tell what he was saying. Once she was closer, she saw Kurt and Allie, both appearing to be unharmed.

"It's your fault," a woman's voice screamed. "Your fault my son doesn't have a father. And you can come here and have your perfect life after the things you've done? Do you know what it's like to have to tell your kid that his dad will _never_ come home?"

"I don't," Kurt said, his hands up next to his face in surrender. "But if you don't stop now, he's not going to have a mother either. It's not too late…for us all to walk away."

Jane finally recognized the woman, Devon, the same one who was likely responsible for shooting Kurt back in Tibet. She had at least two other people helping her, standing armed on either side of the room.

Devon said, "Eye for an eye. You took my kid's father. I came here to take your kid's father."

"Devon—" Kurt began.

"Shut up! You don't get to talk. People like you always get to make the rules and do all the talking…not anymore. Not today."

"Fine. I'm listening," he said, doing his best to keep this negotiation going.

"But you know what…it's not the same. If you die, the pain is over for you. You don't have to live with this. So I'm gonna kill her," Devon turned and pointed her gun at Allie, the rest of her crew turning their guns on Kurt to make sure he didn't try to be a hero.

"You don't want to do that," he said, still sounding calm. "She's pregnant. You'll kill her baby…a child who's completely innocent in all of this."

"Casualties of war, right?" Devon answered with rage.

"It isn't even my child," Kurt argued. "You'll be killing this woman…and she didn't have anything to do with Parker's death. She was on the other side of the country when it happened. And you'll be killing her child, who's never done anything to anyone. And you will destroy her husband…he's a normal guy. He's not a cop or FBI. He's not involved in any of this. You don't want to hurt or kill three innocent people. If I'm the one you're angry at, punish me. Not them. You're a good person, Devon, and—"

"You don't know me at all," she argued.

As Devon turned to the side, Jane could see her better, realizing the woman was likely in the middle of a complete breakdown. No one could rationalize with her in this state.

"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up," Devon yelled, getting louder each time as she paced.

Jane saw Allie's eyes darting around, and Jane started to panic. It definitely looked like Allie was about to make a move while Devon was focused on Kurt.

Allie did jump up, managing to disarm one of the intruders and take his gun, but the other shooter and Devon both turned toward Allie. Jane launched from her spot by the stairs, kicking the legs out from under one intruder and hurrying to help Allie. Devon turned, her face contorted with pain and fury, and Jane could tell she was about to open fire. Shoving Allie out of the way, Jane stepped into Allie's place just as Devon pulled the trigger. Two gunshots rang out, and in the chaos, Jane couldn't tell who was firing or in which direction.

She faced Devon, pleading with her eyes to stop the violence and end this standoff. Devon's rage and anguish faded slowly, her expression becoming completely blank until a look of regret began to surface, and fat tears swelled and skated down her cheeks. Jane saw that Allie and Kurt both appeared to be alright. The gun hung loosely from Devon's fingers until it fell to the ground. Kurt kicked it away as Jane said, "It's over, Devon. It's time to walk away."

Devon's look of regret became confusion, and she said, shakily, "I'm so sorry…I-I-I—I really am sorry."

Jane saw Kurt's expression turn to one of shock, and Allie cried out, with absolute panic, "Oh my god, Jane!"

Suddenly, Jane felt nothing. She looked down and saw red, although her focus blurred, and in the next moment, the room tilted as she fell to the ground, unconscious.

* * *

Jane was having the most pleasant dreams. She and Kurt were floating somewhere, in an ordinary boat, on a lake or ocean. She wasn't exactly sure where, nor did she care. Even though she wore sunglasses, she could still see the bright sun through her closed eyelids. Her whole body felt warmed by its heat, but the breeze that drifted across her skin kept her comfortable. Kurt was seated behind her at the front of the boat, and she sat between his legs, her back resting against his chest as they aimlessly floated.

She felt him kiss the top of her head as he held her in his arms. She lifted her foot and hooked her knee over the side of the boat, letting her toes drag in the lapping water.

"This is heavenly," she cooed. "Warm sun, cool breeze…just drifting here with you."

"It is nice," he agreed. "But we should probably head back soon."

She sat up and looked around, seeing nothing but unending grey-blue water in all directions.

She looked around the boat and didn't see oars or a motor, and she wondered why she'd been so calm about being adrift so far from land. "Kurt," she worriedly began, hoping he knew how in the hell to get back, but when she turned, he wasn't behind her anymore.

"Kurt?" she shouted out over the water. Frantically looking off all sides of the boat in case he fell in, she began to panic.

She heard him reassuringly say, "I'm right here, Jane," but as she looked around, she didn't see him.

She felt someone holding her hand, and as she tried to figure out what was going on, everything went black again. The rhythmic sloshing of the waves against the boat morphed into a mechanical beeping sound, and when she tried to open her eyes again, the light was so bright that she had to squint to see.

* * *

Kurt was just so damn relieved to see her open her eyes again. "Jane?" he asked, trying to keep his voice low since she looked so disoriented.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, tilting her head slightly, and before she said anything, she looked around at the hospital room she was now lying in. Suddenly her eyes flared open and she sat straight up before shooting pain punished her for her motion. "Ava!" she worriedly called out in a hoarse near-whisper. "She's with the paper towels."

"Ava's just fine," Kurt said, standing and putting his hands on her shoulders to guide her back down to the bed. "You texted Conor and told us where she was."

Jane's eyes darted to the place on her arm where the IV was connected, and, anticipating that she might yank it out of her arm, Kurt quickly covered it with his hand, "Just leave it in. Everyone is fine. The only thing you need to do…is rest."

"What happened?" she asked as Kurt handed her a cup of water and pointed the straw toward her lips.

"Devon came after us."

"We were at Allie's?" she asked after finally sipping enough water to ease her throat.

"Yea. You went to get diapers. She held Allie and me at gunpoint."

Jane nodded as it seemed like her memory was coming back, "You turned on the outside lights to warn me?"

"Allie did. I thought you were still somewhere in the house. I heard something downstairs while Ava was sleeping, and went to check it out. Thanks for protecting her."

"Is she okay? Does she know what happened?"

"She's just fine, thanks to you, and she had no idea what was going on. She hid, listened to music. She knows you were hurt, but we didn't give her any details. The cops showed up to give us a hand right after you got shot. Conor got your text and passed on the details to law enforcement."

"I got shot?" she asked.

"Yea. Come on, I know you were just jealous that I was the only one who got shot on this latest adventure of ours," he teased. "You may have saved Allie's life. Probably her baby, too," he added much more somberly. "It was very heroic. And don't _ever_ …do that again."

"I can't help it—"

"I know," he interrupted, wrapping his fingers around hers and bringing her hand to his lips. "It's just who you are. And if you were trying to convince me that it's time for a new career, fine. You win. You really scared me this time."

"When you were shot I couldn't even get you to a hospital right away," she argued. "That was pretty terrifying, too."

"I promise I'll try really hard to make sure neither of us get shot again," he said as reassuringly as he could. Realizing she was looking at herself to assess the extent of the damage, he explained, "You won this time. I was only shot once. You were shot twice. Here," he pointed at her arm near the shoulder, "and here," he pointed at her thigh. "Devon had two people with her. You knocked one of them down, but he managed to get one shot off. As soon as Devon shot you, she dropped the gun. She couldn't take the guilt. One bullet nicked the femoral artery in your leg. You lost a lot of blood and dropped like a sack of potatoes. You were in surgery a couple of hours, but there were no complications. Looks like you're gonna be just fine."

"But what's going to happen to her child?"

Kurt smiled, his chest so full of love that he could barely contain it. In spite of the fact that Devon had threatened them and ultimately shot Jane, she was still concerned for the welfare of the innocent child in all of this. "I was going to talk to you about that. I'm trying to work something out…keep Devon in FBI custody, make sure she receives intensive therapy, but let her have access to her son daily. She has some additional information which might prove useful. I know she shot both of us, but—"

"I agree."

"Nothing's worked out yet. But I'll try.'

"Thank you," she answered. "If we can get help for her and her son…maybe we can stop this cycle of violence, help him before he grows up just as angry and—"

"Are you talking to her? Is she awake?" a familiar voice interrupted from the hall. Allie rushed in the room and looked at Jane. "Don't you dare ever do that again! I appreciate you saving my ass, but don't do it by getting between me and a bullet."

"Sorry?" Jane asked, clearly uncertain and a little overwhelmed by the suddenness of the activity in the room.

"Do you have any idea the kind of guilt I'd have to live with if you would have died?"

"I just—"

"Well, you're alive, we're all alive, and that's what matters," Allie interrupted. "Ava was upstairs, curled up in the little hiding space you made for her, safe and sound. I told you…these kids _need_ you. This family _needs_ you."

Jane smiled shyly, and finally said, "Thanks, Allie."

Taking a breath, Allie pushed past Kurt and hugged Jane a bit too enthusiastically. "Easy there," Kurt said, noting that the hug appeared to cause Jane more pain than comfort, but Jane hugged her back nonetheless.

"Thank _you_ ," Allie said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I could have lost my baby. And you took such good care of Ava. If she would have wandered downstairs…"

"It's no problem," Jane humbly replied, appearing uncomfortable with the attention.

"You're not just a step-mother. You're a god-mother or guardian angel or something. We're moving closer. Not back to the city, but closer than this."

"Wait, we are?" Conor asked as he entered the room, Ava following, holding his hand as she hung from his arm and dragged her feet. He looked at Jane, appearing to be searching for a safe way to hug her, and deciding instead to limit his gratitude to words. "I am so grateful, Jane. Thank god you were there."

* * *

Jane watched Kurt swoop the child up from the ground and listened while her teeny giggle filled the room. "I winned hide-n-seek," Ava proudly said.

"I'm so proud of you," Jane answered, feeling inexplicably emotional as she saw the girl and confirmed with her own eyes that she was okay. Parenthood was full of strange emotions, regardless of whether parent and child shared a biological connection.

Ava flung all of her weight to one side, half hanging down over Kurt's arm, trying to propel herself from his grasp and into Jane's. "You have to be careful," he explained. "She hurt her shoulder and her leg. So you can't jump around. You can sit with her if you don't bounce."

"'Kay," the girl whispered, extending the need for gentleness to her voice as well.

Kurt very carefully put her down so she was sitting next to Jane in the hospital bed. Lifting her good arm, Jane wrapped it around the girl in a half hug. Jane felt those surging emotions again while the girl leaned her head closer and reached one little arm across Jane's torso in the most delicate hug ever offered.

"Love you," Ava whispered.

"Love you," Jane said, her voice choking.

A doctor came in and gestured for Kurt, who went out into the hall for a few moments to talk. "Should we leave?" Allie offered.

Jane shook her head as Ava snuggled in tighter and added, "Nooooo."

"You'll stay with us while you recover," Allie determinedly said. "It's the least I can do."

"That's okay," Jane answered, sounding wearier than she liked. She saw Kurt glancing into the room at her a few times during the conversation with the doctor, but he didn't appear unnecessarily worried, so she hoped everything was okay.

"I insist," Allie replied. "You take care of us, we take care of you…that's family, right?"

"Okay," Jane replied, "but just for a few days. I'm ready to go home."

"Can I go, too?" Ava asked. "Fer my prize for hide-n-seek?"

Jane suddenly remembered promising something to the girl if she won the game, but hadn't even had time to figure anything out yet.

"May's been through a lot," Allie said, "and she's not feeling good. But when she's better we'll talk about your prize. Okay?"

Ava frowned, looking much like her father while she silently disapproved of the delay of her reward.

Kurt and the doctor returned, and the doctor asked, "Is your pain level manageable?"

"Yea, definitely," Jane answered.

"On a scale of one-to-ten?"

"One. Two at the most," Jane calmly answered.

The doctor tilted his head, doubting her report and perhaps wondering if something else was wrong.

"That means six or seven," Kurt replied. When the doctor looked at him, Kurt added, "She needs a translator because she's too tough for her own good."

"I'm fine," Jane argued, scowling at him even though everyone else seemed amused by his comment.

"I'll come back and check in once more before I leave for the night," the doctor politely said. Nodding at Ava, he added, "Your daughter is smart. Follow her lead and get some rest."

The child was curled up next to Jane. It was getting late, and since her nap had been interrupted earlier, Ava was very sleepy, and had finally found a comfortable spot.

The doctor left and Allie pointed at Ava and said, "You want me to move her?"

"She's fine," Jane smiled, carefully lowering the top of the bed a little, her arm still cradling the girl.

"We can give you a few minutes. Conor and I will run down and grab some dinner. Sound good?"

Allie took Kurt's order as well so he wouldn't have to leave Jane's side, and she and Conor left the room.

Kurt was watching Jane with such worry and love that it almost overwhelmed her. He pulled up the blankets and made sure Ava and Jane were covered, leaning and very gently kissing her forehead. "You look exhausted," Jane noted.

"You gave me one hell of a scare," he answered, pulling his chair close to the bed. "I'm just so relieved you're okay. I can't lose you, Jane."

She nodded, feeling sleepiness begin to overtake her.

"Just rest," he said, reaching onto the bed to hold her hand. "I'll be here when you wake up."

Lying there between Ava and Kurt, his hand protectively over hers, she felt extremely lucky. She was lucky that he'd found her. Lucky that he'd survived the trip down the mountain. Lucky that they were all okay. Lucky to be loved by these people around her.


	14. Chapter 14: A Chance at Life

**A/N-This is the last chapter of this story. Thank you all so much for your patience and interest. I hope you enjoyed it!**

 **Chapter 14: A Chance at Life**

* * *

—16 Months Earlier—

 _Kurt had been looking forward to getting out of work all day. He and Jane had a weekend off with Ava, and he was going to take them all to the beach. Ava was a baby, and admittedly the trip was more for the benefit of the adults than the child, but he was excited anyway. He was so in love, both with his girlfriend and his daughter, and the thought of spending the day doing such a normal "family" thing was just what he needed._

 _When he got home, Jane had things stacked on the sofa, preparing the items they'd need based on a list the pair had come up with the night before. He quickly joined the efforts, trying to get everything ready before Ava arrived._

 _Hours later, already exhausted from work and preparations, Kurt bolted toward the door when Ava arrived. The baby was crying and fussy after the flight, and Allie looked like she was very eager for a few days to recharge her batteries._

 _Ava wasn't very helpful while Kurt loaded the car, refusing to sleep even though it was late. He was trying to carry too much all at once, and Jane appeared with perfect timing and took the baby. He made a trip down to his vehicle, and when he returned, he noticed things were too quiet. He peeked in and saw Jane standing on the balcony with Ava. Jane was swaying slowly, and he could hear her softly humming a song. The baby held securely in Jane's left arm, her other hand very softly ran over the baby's cheek and through the wispy pile of hair on her head._

 _Jane turned toward him, her expression a mix of surprise and victory since she'd managed to calm the baby to sleep. Ava was completely passed out, one cheek smashed against Jane's shoulder, tiny mouth open and emitting a heavy sound that was almost a snore. "She really loves you," Kurt said, thrilled at the prospect that Ava and Jane were bonding and getting closer._

" _I was lucky," Jane whispered. "She was exhausted."_

" _You were calmer than I was. They say babies know when you're stressed."_

 _Jane carefully brought the girl in and placed her in the car seat, taking a moment to figure out the straps, but getting her into place without waking up the girl. Kurt high-fived her, looking ridiculously proud, and then she suddenly seemed eager to step away from any further conversation. She quickly hooked her arm under the car seat's carrying handle and said, "We better get going while she's asleep."_

* * *

 _After driving a short while, Kurt said, "You really are great with her. You know—"_

" _I don't know if I can have kids," she blurted out, turning to make sure the baby hadn't woken._

" _You mean you don't know if you want to?" he calmly asked._

" _I don't know if I can."_

 _He knew she'd gone to the doctor's office the day before, but she hadn't mentioned anything. "Why do you say that?"_

" _The doctor yesterday…she said one of my ovaries was damaged while I was still a kid. I have a scar near my hip, she said I was probably stabbed or impaled on something."_

" _Well…" he paused, trying to speak carefully. "You only need one, right?"_

" _Yeah."_

" _The other one is okay?"_

" _Seems to be. I just…I don't have any backup. I'm covered in scars, I've been shot, stabbed, water-boarded, shock tortured, beaten and probably in more than one high-speed impact. My body's been through a lot, and I can't promise that I'll be able to have a child. At the very least, I have a diminished capacity—"_

" _Woah," he interrupted this time. "Don't say it like that."_

" _I just want to be honest upfront. If you want to move on, I'd—I'd understand."_

 _He took her hand, perhaps a bit too tightly. "I'm with you because I'm in love with you. Whether or not we have kids of our own doesn't change that."_

 _He glanced over, seeing her silhouette as she stared forward. He was filled with an intense sadness that made him ache, not at the thought of them not having a child, but because he felt her sorrow._

" _You should be able to make an informed decision," she evenly stated.  
_

" _You still took your pill this morning," he noted. "So you know it's also possible that you can."_

" _Yea," she answered. "I just don't want to hide anything from you. You deserve to know the whole truth."_

" _Lots of things are_ possible _," he said, trying to lighten her mood. "Technically speaking, it's possible that when we go to the petting zoo tomorrow, an angry goat will ram me in the nuts and I won't be able to have any more kids."_

 _He flinched at his own joke, disliking even the passing suggestion, but when she looked at him and tried to stifle a laugh, it felt worth it. "You're an idiot," she chuckled._

 _Just as much as he felt her sorrow, he also felt her laugh, and he marveled at how much lighter it made him feel. "I appreciate your honesty," he said, still holding her hand and tapping it reassuringly with his thumb. "I really do. But lots of things could happen. Let's enjoy what we already have. And just…see where we end up."_

" _Okay," she said, some hesitation still in her voice._

" _I want you," he added, "and everything that comes with you."_

* * *

 _—16 Months Later—_

Jane had been in the hospital for three days before the doctor told her that, if she took it easy, she could be sent home the next morning in the care of her family. In all honesty, the hospital made her feel uneasy, so she was looking forward to leaving and spending a few days with Ava before heading back to New York. It was time to go home.

Kurt had left her side as infrequently as possible during her stay, watching over her like he had nothing else in the world to do. She wasn't sure if it was going to be difficult for him to adapt once they left the hospital and tried to go back to some semblance of an ordinary life.

She watched Kurt fidgeting in the plastic-covered reclining chair the nurse had given him, desperately trying to find the right spot. He was far too long for a chair of that size, and the squeaking sound it made every time he moved seemed to irritate him even more. Jane carefully sat up and guided her injured leg off the bed. Placing her feet on the ground for a moment to test her stability, she stood slowly, trying to be certain that she wouldn't fall and need to extend her recovery. They'd disconnected her IV earlier that day, a fact that she'd been very excited for, but when she realized she didn't have the pole to help steady herself, she missed it…a little.

She took a few steps before Kurt launched out of the chair and hurried to her side. "What are you doing?" he asked worriedly.

"I'm knitting you a new pair of boxers. Like 'em?" she sarcastically replied. Shaking her head, she smirked, "Relax, Kurt. I just have to pee. I think I can walk seven steps to the bathroom all by myself."

Ignoring her protests, he answered, "You're not supposed to be walking by yourself yet."

She took a few more steps and felt him take her elbow for support. "Kurt…you don't need to hover."

"Do me a favor?" he asked, still holding her arm. "Let me help you get around for just another day or two. You may not need to take the help, but I need to give it."

She pulled her arm away once she got to the bathroom and quickly shut the door. Once she was alone, she stepped painfully to the sink and caught herself in the mirror. "I still look like someone who was shot twice and had surgery," she commented to her reflection, turning on the water and splashing her face.

It hurt, she silently admitted, but it was gradually getting better. Most of all, she was ready to get out of this institutional environment. Moving her arm was difficult, taking steps was actually very difficult, but she didn't want to worry those who cared about her any more than necessary. Jane was ready to move on, go home, and begin to rebuild their relationship in earnest. They'd never really had an opportunity to be a married couple.

When she stepped back out of the bathroom, Kurt was leaning against the wall just beside the door. He guided her good arm over his neck and lifted her up, scooping her legs into his arm to carry her. Resting her head on his shoulder, she accepted the help more because she loved the hell out of him than because she needed the assistance, but being in his arms had always felt good.

He put her down like both she and the bed were made of glass, making sure her body didn't jar at all when it hit the mattress.

"Get in here with me," she demanded more than asked, keeping hold of his arm.

"You should rest."

"I'll rest better if you're not flopping around in that chair all night," she argued. Smiling sweetly in a way she knew he had difficulty resisting, she added, "It'll be easier to tell if I try to sneak outta bed…"

"Using my concern against me?" he joked.

She giggled as he walked around the bed and lowered himself gently into place next to her. She moved onto her side, looping her sore leg over his leg and leaning her body against his. "That's better," she said, although she thought he could probably hear the hint of pain in her voice.

Once she was settled, it did feel better, like a long, warm pillow that breathed in time with her, keeping her leg elevated. She'd always loved sleeping with her face and hand on his chest and his arm wrapped around her, knowing that he'd soon cover her hand with his, and smooth his thumb over her wrist until he fell asleep.

They rested silently for a few minutes before she asked, "Did you mean what you said earlier about finding a new career?"

He turned his face toward her, his lips against her forehead as he answered, "Definitely."

"What about your reservations?"

"I said I think you have a drive to help people. You'll have to find a way to do that. Personally, I'm ready to make a change."

She grinned and pressed her palm more firmly against his chest as she relaxed, feeling known and loved. They were silent again for a short while, then she asked, "Why'd you change your mind?"

"We've both got too many fresh scars to keep going like this. I have this great life waiting for me…and I'd like a chance to live it with you."

Jane loved his answer but couldn't shake the feeling that there was something he was hiding. When a possible explanation struck her, she suddenly lifted her torso, immediately regretting the decision when pain shot through her arm.

"Take it easy," he whispered, holding her more tightly, "We don't have to figure out everything right now, but we're going to find the right place for us, a better life. You can help people without getting shot at. I lost you before, and I don't want to keep losing you. We deserve to find some happiness in this world. We'll figure it out together. Just not tonight."

They dozed for a little while. Occasionally noticing the sounds of staff working through the night, they both woke when the nurse came in to check on Jane.

"You awake?" he asked.

"Yea," she answered.

"You have enough room?"

"Yes," she insisted, clenching onto his shirt with her fist. "Stay here."

Patting her hand to silently assure her that he'd remain, he said, "You know Allie really liked you before. But now…I'm gonna have to be careful, because I think she might try to steal you from me."

"She wasn't too thrilled with me when we first got here," Jane commented.

"She doesn't want to admit it, but she was worried. She was worried about me and Ava…'cause for some reason she seemed to think I was a little lost without you."

"She did?"

"She was right," he answered immediately. "And, deep down, she really was worried about what happened to you. We all were. I think she missed you. But when Devon showed up…you protected her family. Her, both of her babies. If she was still mad at you, that's all gone now."

"Thank god for getting shot, huh?" she mused.

"Well, no," he corrected. "But it did put things into perspective. I still don't get how you got Ava the little tornado to stay hidden."

"Luck. She was really sleepy, so she was probably too tired to get into trouble."

"It's more than that. You've always had a way with her, a connection. You're a great mom."

He was silent and she confessed, "It's not that I don't _want_ to have a baby with you…"

He looked at her quickly, appearing shocked by her willingness to discuss the subject before he tried to look much calmer. She had to admit, she'd shied away from this conversation for nearly two years. "Okay," he said, seemingly encouraging her to continue and probably uncertain if she would.

Worriedly, her voice grew tenser and her speech faster with each word as she added, "But if it doesn't work…if we try and we can't because of me. Or what if something happens and I'm a horrible mother when I have to do it every day. Or what if we're killed in the line of duty and they end up in some horrible orphanage and—"

"Hang on," he chuckled. "Breathe for a second."

More evenly, she explained, "If we actually had one, and that's a big _if_ , I could ruin an entire person. What do I know about being a mother?"

"You know everything you need to know. Everyone around you already knows you're a great mom. And that's true if we have more kids or if we only have Ava."

"And if we start trying and my body just doesn't cooperate…what if it messes up everything between the two of us. What if you get frustrated with me and decide—"

He interrupted, "I stepped down from my job to find you. I climbed down a mountain with a hole in my side to stay with you. And I don't regret a single thing. I'm willing to take on anything that tries to come between us. We've been tested time and again. And we're still here. No matter what happens or what your surgeon says, you don't have to worry about me. I'm here to stay."

She took one full breath before she suspiciously asked, "What do you mean 'what my surgeon says'?"

"Or any doctor," he said, but the tone of his voice conveyed subterfuge.

"What did you and the doctor talk about in the hall?" she suspiciously asked.

"You," he answered as if it were obvious. "How you were doing. You know. Doctor stuff."

"But why'd he talk to you instead of me? He did it twice now. Once the first night I was here, and again tonight. I'm the patient. He should talk to me."

"You were with Ava," Kurt said cautiously, seeming to notice the disbelief she was sending his way.

"Something's wrong with me…isn't it?" she asked nervously. "Just tell me what it is."

"No, honey. You're gonna be fine," he said as sincerely as possible. "Absolutely _nothing_ is wrong with you. Trust me," he said, holding her face so she looked in his eyes. "You are—we—are gonna be just fine. Look at me…if something horrible was going on with you, do you think I'd be this relaxed?"

Studying him, she tried to figure out what he was hiding. She knew this man, and something was on his mind. He surrendered his attempt to appear at ease and said, "Doctors run a lot of standard tests before surgery. Routine stuff—"

"Oh god," she said, bracing herself, sitting up in spite of the pain as she prepared for an emotional impact. Once again, paranoia wasn't just paranoia…something was wrong.

"Jane," Kurt said, sitting up next to her and taking her hands in his, "it's fine. They just didn't want you to get worked up since it's so early. They noted elevated HCG levels in your bloodwork."

"What is that? Cancer?"

"It's not cancer. You're pregnant."

"No," she shook her head. "We already knew there were complications, and I saw a monk who was a healer, and he agreed…he said it was very unlikely that children were in my future."

"Based on what…healer x-ray vision?" Kurt replied with skepticism.

"He was highly respected. I saw him after I lost consciousness…after I got these new tattoos."

"Respected or not, sounds like he was wrong this time," Kurt chuckled, nodding. "Not too often the dad gets to spring the news."

"What exactly did the doctor say?"

"The first night you were here, he just asked if there was any chance you might be pregnant. I figured it was a standard question. When he talked to me tonight, he asked if I knew when we might have conceived because he was trying to tell where the levels should be at. It's really early, and a lot of pregnancies this early are lost without anyone ever really knowing. You've also experienced a very traumatic event, so he wasn't sure if the pregnancy would stick. But when they ran bloodwork earlier today, they found that your levels are actually going up…not staying even or going down."

"What does that mean?" she asked, feeling so disoriented that she wasn't even sure how to react or what to hope for.

"It means things are looking good so far. Actually he said the levels are on the high end of normal."

"Is that bad?"

"No. Not bad. It's a sign that things are going well. Of course the whole first trimester is the most risky time. You're only a few weeks in, so it's still really early."

"Why didn't they tell me?"

"He said they were running one more round of bloodwork to be sure, and they want to do an ultrasound in the morning to check things out. If you weren't pregnant anymore, I didn't want to get your hopes up, and if you were pregnant and didn't want to be…well, I didn't want you to have to deal with that unless you had to."

"If I didn't want to be?"

"You've really avoided the subject, Jane. I wasn't sure if this is what you want."

"Of course this is what I want," she argued, slightly scandalized. "I just…"

"You just what?" he nudged.

"I didn't think it would happen. I didn't want to let you down."

Appearing a little frustrated, he replied, "What do I have to do to convince you?"

She hadn't expected irritation, so she flinched a little as she asked, "What?"

"I'm not sure what else I can do to prove to you how I feel," he answered more softly. "I've told you, nothing will make me stop. Except—"

"Except what?" she asked when his pause was too lengthy.

"Except if you tell me it's over."

She grabbed his face between her hands and kissed him, slowly and with devoted intent. He pulled away first and said, "There's only one thing I can do to prove it. I'm gonna stick around."

A smile slowly crept over her face as she remembered their discussion shortly after he'd been shot, when she'd wondered how she could mend his broken heart. His words echoed in her mind:

 _Just stick around. We'll help each other through this stuff. That's how you fix that._

She grinned widely as her eyes brimmed with joyful tears and she said, "And I'm pregnant?"

He nodded his head and replied, "Yea. Like I said, it's early. But I have a really good feeling about this."

She nodded her head, feeling a great disbelief that seemed to confuse him, then she replied, "You know what? So do I."


End file.
